The Ties That Bind
by Khalthar
Summary: Stephanie lost her family in Mission City, now she has a new problem. Jazz fought for what he believed in, even when it killed him. Now the two of them have met, and just maybe their lives will change for the better.
1. Chapter 1

The Ties That Bind

She moved carefully through the alley behind a long row of buildings, at least she thought that it was an alley. She really couldn't tell much about it, except that it reeked of the piles of garbage that were heaped in it. Dragging the fingers of her right hand lightly along the brick wall, she made sure that she kept the constantly moving tip of the old fishing pole out in front of her to make sure that she didn't run into anything.

Once again, and not for the hundredth time, or even the hundred thousandth time, she wished that the most horrible day of her life had never happened. Her feet stopped moving almost on their own as she thought about that awful day. It was her eighth birthday, and her mom, dad, and little sister Celeste were celebrating it with her; just the four of them. They'd had a lot of fun and her mom and dad had even done the kinds of things that she knew they didn't really enjoy, but they'd still done it, and had managed to have fun too.

They had watched, smiled, and even clapped in approval when she showed them everything she had learned in her ballet class. Okay, so they'd had to cut a few things out of their budget to send her to the ballet class after school, but she'd worked hard, and practiced even harder. It had been not only her heart's desire, but her dream, and she'd poured everything she had into working towards it. She'd proven to be very good at it, good enough in fact, that neither her parents nor her younger sister had ever once begrudged or complained about the cost.

She could still picture the huge grin on her mother's face when she brought out the cake. It had been in the shape of a graceful ballerina caught in mid twirl. She remembered leaning forward to blow out the eight brightly lit candles on the beautiful cake. She remembered the wonderful, happy smiles on her family's faces. She remembered how those smiles, those candles, and that cake were the last things her eyes would ever see again.

She'd just taken a deep breath and started to blow out the candles, when the whole world exploded. She remembered waking up in a hospital in far more pain than she'd ever felt in her life. Her entire left side and arm felt like it was on fire. Her eyes hurt terribly, and so did a good part of her face for that matter. She remembered calling out for her mother, her father, and even her little sister, but no one had come. They never showed up to tell her that she was going to be okay.

For nearly a week she'd asked about her family, and why they hadn't come to see her, but no one would answer her questions. The doctors and nurses wouldn't tell her anything. They wouldn't tell her where her family was, or even if they were okay. They wouldn't even tell her what was wrong with her. Every time she'd asked, they'd just give her something to make her sleep again.

Then there was the man who'd been in her room one day when she woke up. He never told her his name, instead, he simply told her that her family was dead, that the funerals had already been held, and that she would never be able to see them again. She remembered him telling her that she would go to a state foster home after she got released from the hospital, and that it might be possible for her to take some classes so she could learn to adjust to her new disability. She remembered the man telling her all of it at once, and so fast that he had left before the full realization had set in.

The nurse had found her sobbing her heart out over the loss of her family. She hadn't been given the chance to say goodbye, the chance to tell them how much she loved them, or even what they really meant to her. She would never see them again. In fact, she would never see anything again, and that hurt as much as anything else.

Tears fell from sightless grey eyes as she remembered all of it. She'd lost everything that day. Her mother, her father, her little sister, her home, her clothes, and even her dreams of becoming a ballet dancer along with her sight and the use of her left arm. Perhaps the worst part of it all was that there was really no explanation for why it had happened, and she knew that it was one of those things that she would never know the answer to.

She shook her head in frustration to try to get those thoughts and memories out of her mind. They wouldn't help her now, nor would they ever help. Those memories were just something to break her concentration when she needed to focus on what she was doing. She swung the tip of the old fishing pole and a short arc in front of her to see if it hit anything. She knew from the few instructions that she'd received while in the state foster home that as long as it didn't hit anything, then there was nothing in front of her to trip on.

The therapist who'd taught her even went so far as to tell her that it would have been better if she'd been born blind, because then she would have learned such things at an earlier age, and wouldn't have to concentrate on it so much. The problem was that she _did_ need to concentrate, and her memories were distracting. She finally started moving forward once more, when the end of the fishing rod hit something.

Knowing that something was there, she made her way forward cautiously. Her right hand brushed against a metal surface, and she felt around a bit to see if she could tell what it was. Relief flooded though her as she recognized the feel of a dumpster. Her right hand automatically went up to the edge to see how full it was. She felt the top of the edge, but didn't feel any bags. Dipping her hand slowly inside, she checked to see if there was anything inside that she could get to. Her arm was only at her elbow when her hand hit the top of a trash bag. Now if she was lucky, she might be able to find something to eat.

She leaned her rod against the brick wall and began to carefully climb in the dumpster. It wasn't something she'd ever have considered if her family had still been alive, but things had changed. The foster home that she'd been sent to, didn't have, or didn't want to spare the funds that were needed so she could learn what she needed to know about her handicap, and there were a lot of things that she didn't know. How to read Braille was only one of them, but the list only started there. About the only thing she could do half way decently was get around on her own two feet and it took almost all of her concentration and attention to just do that.

Once she was inside the dumpster, she began carefully tearing open the bags that she could feel. She let her nose act as her guide in each case, since she couldn't _see_ if there was any food in the bag. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as the smell of old and mildewed coffee grounds hit her. It wasn't actually that her senses of smell or hearing had gotten better, but rather it was that she tended to pay more attention to what she smelled or heard, because if she didn't, then she could get hurt really easily now that she couldn't see what might cause an injury.

She didn't know how many bags of trash she'd opened when she found the partially eaten sandwich, but then with the way her stomach was growling, she really didn't care either. Clutching her prize in her left hand hand, she carefully climbed her way out of the dumpster and grabbed her rod before she sat down to eat. She laid the rod down beside her, and held the sandwich firmly as she began to eat it. Luck was apparently with her tonight, since she could tell from the way it smelled that it had been thrown out earlier that day.

She didn't know what kind of sight she made as she sat there, nor would she have cared. Things like her appearance just didn't really matter anymore. Almost as soon as she'd arrived at the foster home, the two people who ran the place had begun to gripe loudly about what she was costing them. She'd known simply from the feel of the clothes they gave her that it was all used. The doctors hadn't even taken the bandages off of her eyes before they complained to her about the massive medical bills that she was racking up. Then they'd told her that there wasn't enough money to keep paying for the rehabilitation therapy, and that she'd had her last lesson in adjusting to her blindness.

It had all been so unfair. Never, not in a million years would she have asked for any of the things that had happened that day, but they had happened, and being told that she was too old to waste good money on when she'd never amount to anything or get adopted because of her medical problems had been the final straw. She had run away that night. She'd waited until she was sure that everyone else was asleep, and then she'd snuck out. She knew that she'd only been there about three months, but there was only so much that she could take. Living on the streets these past four years had been hard, but she knew that she could deal with that now, although the first month or so had been a horrible learning experience for her. She'd lived with it, and she'd learned to cope with the way she lived, and perhaps the best part of it all was that she wasn't costing anyone anything.

Okay, so it wasn't all that much to be proud of. It was at least _something_, and no matter what anyone else might say, she knew that she could tell them that she was living on her own and that even as terrifying as it was at times, she was still doing it. So her stuff that she'd brought with her had gotten stolen within the first week, she'd eventually replaced a lot of it. The old fishing pole with the eyes broken off of it was a good example. Completely useless to anyone but her, she'd found a way to make do. So maybe she was going to end up spending the rest of her life just trying to make do. Would it really matter to anyone but her? Probably not, and most likely no one would ever notice or care about what little she'd learned to achieve on her own.

She thought about a lot of things while she slowly ate that sandwich. The rye bread was a little hard, but that was made up for by the thick slathering of mustard that was on it. She had no idea who had made the sandwich, but who ever it was must have been too busy to get a chance to eat it. She knew that there were several thick slices of pastrami, pepperoni, roast beef, and even ham on it, and that wasn't even counting the vegetables. She started to smile as she thought of just how incredibly lucky she'd been to find such a meal, but then she thought of how many times she hadn't gotten as lucky and went hungry because of it and her smile faded before it had truly formed.

When she finished the sandwich, she moved a little ways away from the dumpster to get away from the smell a bit, and let her food digest. She listened carefully for any noises which might be out of place, but the only sounds to be heard, were those of the sparse traffic this late at night, and that of the wind. She paid close attention to the sounds around her for a while, because she'd had some very harrowing experiences in the beginning, and others that she truly wished she could forget because of the nightmares they caused.

Living on the streets wasn't an easy life to begin with, but it was made far tougher by the fact that she was blind. She didn't care how hard it was, nor did she really think about it, because if she ever did, she'd end up in tears or worse. She knew that the truth of her life was that it couldn't get much worse than it already was, but there was something deep inside her heart that just wouldn't let her give up. She didn't know what it was, but she had often wished many times that it wasn't there, so that she could give up, so she could just end it all.

'_After all, I can't read, I can't even go back to school, and even if I could, I'd be so far behind that I'd never catch up. So what else is there?'_ She wondered idly.

She sat there alone with her thoughts and memories since she had nothing else that she could do to occupy her mind. Although it wouldn't have been considered all that much by most people's standards, the sandwich that she'd eaten was more food than she'd been able to scrounge during the past two days, and she wanted to let it digest so she could get the most out of it.

An irritated expression graced her features as she made a concerted effort to remember times that had been much better and far happier than what she currently endured. She remembered one of the things that she could no longer even practice, her ballet dancing. The first time she'd been able to go 'En Pointe'; her instructor had complimented her so strongly and so sincerely that she'd felt twelve feet tall for days. Her sense of accomplishment after finally getting that right was indescribable, she remember how hard she'd struggled to gain and eventually hold that position. It was one of the most difficult things she'd ever learned, but she'd done it, and never had she been more proud of herself.

She was startled out of her reverie and fond memories by something brushing against her hand. She realized that it was a slip of paper, and she picked it up. Her fingers explored the piece of paper curiously. Then she realized that the paper felt differently. Her eyes widened in stark disbelief as she realized that what she now held was money!

Three days. To most individuals, it couldn't seem like a very long time, but when one was aware of what happened during each and every second of those seventy two hours, it was almost like an eternity. For him it _had_ been such an eternity. What truly made that length of time so monstrous, so hideous in every aspect, were the thoughts, and memories that plagued his every waking moment. Memories of how he'd died, or to be more precise, how he'd been killed.

Fighting for something he had believed in, but on a world that he wasn't sure about. He'd had no choice when he'd taken on someone who was more than four times his size and several times his strength. It didn't make any difference that the one he'd ended up fighting, was intent on the destruction or domination of every living being in the universe. Nor did it matter that he'd firmly believed in the principals of the one he'd chosen to follow. In the end, it all came down to the fact that he'd died fighting for those principals, and against the one who'd killed him in a terribly brutal fashion.

The memory of that terrible, blinding agony was unbelievable. Nothing that he knew of, could have prepared him for the sheer torment that he'd felt in that moment when he'd been torn all too literally in half. That incredible and unimaginable pain had seemed to last forever, but that wasn't surprising. What did surprise him was just how long he'd managed to live after it had happened.

He remembered how the intensity of the pain had paralyzed every system he had. He remembered how the individual he'd once respected had enjoyed the process of ripping his body in half. He remembered the comment as his opponent had flung him in two entirely separate directions. He could still see, in the depths of his highly detailed memories, the madly whirling world as he hurdled towards the ground, the sight of his legs as they too tumbled towards the same fate. He remembered each fraction of every pain filled second as the ground rushed at him. He recalled that horrible flash of agony as his pain intensified to an indescribable degree when he actually hit the ground.

Once again, the horrible sounds of his body hitting the ground filled his thoughts, as he remembered the awful events of that terrible day. What made it so horrible was that the only thing that had been accomplished that day had been the destruction of the Allspark. It was true that his opponent had also been killed, but like him, that opponent had once again been brought to life.

It was more than enough to make him wonder if it had been worth it. Make him ask himself if the sacrifices that had been made that day were worth the price that had been paid. He knew the legends of what was supposed to happen when someone died, but then everyone knew those legends. It hadn't happened, or if it had, he couldn't remember any of it. The Matrix, the face of Primus, his lost friends and family, and he could remember _none_ of it! He had given everything he had to offer, including his own life, and it hadn't made a single difference. That was what was tearing him up inside, and it was what had dominated his thoughts for the past three days.

He knew that Optimus Prime had used some of the power inherent in the Matrix to restore life to his badly broken body. That it had occurred several years after he'd died didn't matter. All that mattered now was that he was once again alive. Alive to feel the joys of life, to renew old friendships, to experience the joys that could be found on this new world, but unfortunately he continuously found himself remembering the brutally agonizing moments of his death. It didn't matter how much he didn't want to dwell on such gruesome events, it was more that he couldn't stop himself from doing so. He could recall how happy and almost carefree he had been before his untimely demise, but that was no longer the case. That had been before he was killed.

Now, however he found himself asking the point and purpose of it all. He couldn't help but wonder if maybe things shouldn't have been different, or maybe if they even _could_ have been different. His ruminations had been next to useless in providing answers to any of the questions that he posed to himself, and that merely made him feel worse. So now, here he was, sitting at the end of an alley, looking at one of the streets where he and his friends had fought so valiantly and yet so uselessly several years ago.

"Gimme the fuckin money ya little bitch!" A voice snarled angrily.

The voice and the words startled him out of his reverie suddenly, and he quickly swept his scanners over his surroundings to find the source. There! Behind him, a poorly clothed male was snatching something away from someone who was obviously much younger and dressed in clothes that were far past a state of dilapidation.

He started his engine, slammed his transmission into reverse, built up enough speed, and whipped himself around to face the two before the man even had a chance to run.

"Give it back, and run slimeball, or else I might just see if I can turn you into another stain on the ground!" He called out loudly as he used his headlights to blast the entire alley in a bright light to stun the man into cooperation.

Had he been in his standard mode, he might have given a grim smile of satisfaction as the man threw the money back at his intended victim and took off running.

Sightless grey eyes widened in astonishment as she felt the strip of paper brush against her face as it fell. She heard the rapid beat of the man's shoes as he made his escape. The loud noise of a car that sounded almost angry didn't quite cover the scream of the tires as the car came rushing down the alley to stop in front of her. Her right hand was grasping frantically, as she tried desperately to catch the money that she had miraculously found.

She'd just gotten her hand on the unknown bill when her ears picked up the distinct sound of an object being crushed beneath the tires of the car stopping in front of her. Her face twisted into an expression of pained agony as she realized what had made that disturbing crunching noise.

"Are ya okay? He did get a chance ta hurt ya did he?" A deep voice asked her in what sounded like genuine concern.

"I'm... I'm fine. He just grabbed the money from me. Can... Can you tell me how much it is?" She answered in surprise.

"It's a ten dollar bill. Why would ya need me ta tell ya that?" The man in the car asked her in a tone that told her that he was really confused.

"I needed to know how much it is, so I'd know if I have enough to get something to use as a new cane." She answered irritatedly.

"Cane?" The man repeated confusedly.

He scanned the area around the girl, even though he could only tell that from the voice, and realized that his left front tire was sitting on a six foot long tapered rod of fiberglass that was now broken from his weight. He knew that a cane was used to support a person's weight to assist them in walking, so how could such a flimsy material possibly be used as a cane?

"Yes, a cane. I can't tell if something's in front of me without one." She told the man a little angrily.

"How come ya need a cane to know if somethin's in front of ya? Can't ya just see it?" The man asked.

The tone of puzzlement and confusion in the man's voice surprised her. Surely he knew that she was blind by now. Hadn't he ever seen a blind person before? She shook her head as she tried to make sense of this strange situation.

"No, I can't see. I'm blind, and I'll never be able to see again. I can't even walk very good without using a cane or something to feel if I'm about to run into something." She told him while trying not to be smart-alecky about it.

His surprise couldn't have been greater. He'd known bots who'd gotten their optics damaged so that they couldn't see, but they were still able to get around by using their sensors until their optics were repaired or replaced, but then he realized that humans _couldn't_ have their eyes replaced, which meant that what she said was true. He felt his spark sink as he felt about half an inch tall when he realized that he'd literally taken her mobility away from her by stopping on that flimsy fiberglass rod. He knew that somehow he had to do something to make this right.

"Look, I'm sorry. I was only tryin ta help. If I'd known what ya used that for; I'd have stopped sooner. I got a friend that can get ya a better one. I... I've never met anyone who was blind before." He told her factually.

She heard what the man in the car said, but more she heard the genuine regret and honesty in his voice. His offer to replace her makeshift cane had to be sincere, and given her circumstances, she didn't have much choice but to take him up on that offer. She wasn't too sure of just how far he was willing to help her, but this was the first person besides her therapist who had actually seemed to _care_ what might happen to her.

"Okay. What do you want me to do?" She asked wondering if her wanted her to wait here while his friend got a new cane for her or what.

"Well, ya can't get around without a cane, right? So I figure I kinda owe ya for that one, at least until I get a replacement. I owe ya that much, since I broke the one you had. Mah name's Jazz, by the way. What's yours?" Jazz asked her.

"My name is Stephanie, but you can call me Steph if you want. And without a cane, there's really not much I can do." She answered with no small amount of hope, but with a large amount of nervousness and fear at the prospect of dealing with this total stranger.

"Okay, Steph. Come on and let's get ya fixed up." Jazz told her.

"Are you sure about this? I mean, I'm filthy. I don't even know how long it's been since I last washed my clothes in a bathroom sink, and I know I smell worse than a garbage dump." She told him apprehensively.

She knew that there were things that were worse than living on the streets, and digging for cast off scraps in the dumpsters. There were lots of people that she had to hide from and avoid; other vagrants would gladly trade her for some kind of reward.

"At least promise that you won't turn me in. There's no way I want to go back to that foster home." She demanded fearfully, knowing that several government agencies would lock her up somewhere while they claimed that it was best for her.

"Look, I don't know who you're hidin from, but as long as ya ain't done nuthin wrong I won't turn ya in. Now if ya can promise me that ya ain't broke the law, then I can promise I won't turn ya in." Jazz responded seriously.

"The only thing I did was run away from a place that was being run by people who didn't want me there because I cost them too much money. I don't want to go back, because they don't like me, as bad as things are right now, it's still better than it was there." She said honestly.

Jazz had been a specialist in sabotage, infiltration, and interrogation for more than a million years of war, and he knew that she was telling the truth, but he could still tell that there was something that she was leaving out. The fact that there was still something being hidden from him, a secret that was being kept bothered him. He had no idea what that secret might be, but he was determined to get it out of her.

"All right. Since ya say that you ain't broken the law, then you'll be fine with me, but I'm tellin ya now, I don't take well ta criminals; understand?" Jazz told her firmly.

"I'm not a criminal. The law just says that I'm too young to be on my own. I'm _not_ going back to that foster home! They hate having me there, and I hate being there. I... I just don't want to end up getting kidnapped and sold as a slave or something." Stephanie said as tears filled her eyes.

The energon in his lines ran cold with both horror and rage as he heard those words. He knew the girl was telling him the truth on that one, and that revealing that much information hadn't been easy. Jazz knew now that this girl was placing an incredible amount of trust in him, and he knew that without betraying everything he believed in, everything he'd _died_ fighting for, that he could never betray that trust.

"I promise that ya won't have ta worry about any of that stuff while ya hang with me, an as for the smell, how bout I take ya someplace where ya can get cleaned up?" Jazz offered.

"Okay, that sounds really good right now." She said as she wiped away the tears that ran down dirt stained cheeks.

Stephanie got to her feet, and shoved the ten dollar bill in her one pocket that didn't have a hole in it, it was the largest amount she'd possessed since she'd run away, and she didn't intend to lose it. Then, she put her right hand in front of her to feel her way around the car so she could get in. The level of the hood in front of her was low and curved in a way that told her it was some kind of sports car, but she couldn't tell what kind. She made her way around the car by keeping her left hand on the hood, and the other stretched out to make sure that she didn't run into anything. It was almost with a sigh of relief that she finally sat down in the passenger seat, and buckled up.

Watching the girl make her way around the front of his alt mode, only made Jazz feel worse about accidentally breaking her cane. He could see the girl's sightless eyes staring straight in front of her, unable to focus on anything. Deeply disturbed by a disability that he would never have encountered back on Cybertron, Jazz scanned the girl. His sensors showed him the massive amounts of scar tissue that covered the left side of her upper body and left arm, but what was far worse than the rather extensive scarring was the residual energy signature that was still embedded in those scars. Jazz had seen that same energy signature on thousands of different occasions, and on each one of those times, that signature had been found on the various battle injuries of his friends. The girl's injuries had been caused by plasma fire from a Cybertronian weapon!

Jazz honestly didn't know how she was able to even tolerate such a debilitating injury forget about actually _living_ with it! He watched in silence as the girl used her right hand to check and make sure that the seat was empty, and then to determine just how much room she'd have in the seat. It was a truly eerie experience to see someone feeling out their environment in order to know what was around them. He'd never imagined that he'd meet someone with that kind of damage, and when he actually thought about it, about how she would never be able to tell anyone what he might look like, about where he could take her, and about how she would never actually _know_ where she'd been taken unless he told her the truth. The saboteur felt the energon in his lines run cold as he suddenly realized that this girl had literally put her life in his hands on just his word alone.

Stephanie knew that what she was doing was incredibly dangerous. Without being able to see, she knew that she would have to trust someone she'd only just met. She could tell from his voice that he was black. She was sure that the strong deep voice belonged to a very powerful man, but at the same time, that voice had undertones of sympathy and compassion. She wasn't really sure why she felt she should trust Jazz, but at the same time, something told her that she _could_ trust Jazz. That strange little feeling didn't stop her from being scared though and she did her best to hide it, but like many of those who were blind, she didn't think about her facial expressions.

Jazz knew that she was scared. Primus, the girl's fear was written all over her face. She was taking him at his word and trusting in his promise to her and that touched his spark in a way that he couldn't explain. He saw the way that she was trying to avoid getting his interior dirty, but still pressed herself back in the seat because she couldn't anticipate any of the moves that he might make. The girl's actions gave Jazz a whole new appreciation of just how much trust she was placing in him.

"Can ya tell me why someone would kidnap ya and sell ya inta slavery?" Jazz asked quietly.

Stephanie started at the question. It was a topic that she'd learned about through over hearing other homeless people talk about it. She hadn't known anything about it when she first started living on the streets and given that Jazz didn't seem to know much about blindness, he _certainly_ wouldn't know about that.

"Drug dealers don't care where they get their money from. They'll steal kids and make them into slaves so that they can sell some sex time with them. The attractive ones make more money and they keep the kids stoned so they won't fight it, or try to escape. With someone like me they probably wouldn't even bother wasting the drugs because as long as they took my cane away from me; I wouldn't be able to escape, and I'd never be able to identify anyone." She answered sadly.

"So if they ever found ya, then they'd force ya ta do that slaggin stuff right? So how do ya stay away from em?" Jazz asked curiously.

"I have to hide during the day. The only way I can tell if it's night time is by listening for the hum of the street lights, or feeling for sunlight on my face. I've got some hiding spots scattered all over the place. I have to have a lot of them because I can't run without taking a chance of tripping on something. If that happens, I'd really get hurt pretty bad. At my age, I'm supposed to be in school, so I have to hide from the police and everybody else too. If they catch me they'll just send me back to that foster home and then I won't have anything because they'd take my cane away. Plus, I'd have to hear them tell me how much they hate me because of how expensive I am. At least where I'm at, even if people don't like me; I don't have to hear them tell me they hate me."

Jazz felt a black rage boiling deep within his processors. The story that the girl was telling him conjured up the image of a life that was far too similar to that told by many of the various Cybertronian femmes they'd rescued. It was one thing for an adult to face that kind of hardship and danger, but for him to hear it from someone as young as she was just made his circuits sizzle.

Jazz was about to ask another question when the girl's expression changed almost instantly. She immediately unbuckled the safety belt, had the door open, and was outside on the ground before he even realized that she was going to get out. He watched in stunned silence as the girl fell to her hands and knees before she violently emptied the contents of her stomach into the alley. A scan of what was coming up showed him that some of what she'd eaten earlier was heavily contaminated with salmonella bacteria. He knew what that was from the explanation the Sergeant Epps had given during the BBQ that had been held to celebrate his return to life.

Processors that could analyze hundreds of different options in an instant during battle flashed into action as he watched. Jazz knew that she now needed some serious medical attention or there was a strong chance that she'd die. If he took her to one of the human hospitals then the human authorities would be alerted and he'd already given her his word that he wouldn't tell them. It didn't matter that _he_ wouldn't be the one turning her in, because he'd have been the one to take her to those that did turn her in. That left him with only one other option and while he didn't think she'd be happy with him for it; it was far better than watching her die. Jazz waited until her stomach was empty before he spoke to her again.

"Come on. I got a friend that can fix ya up and get ya over that food poisoning." Jazz told her.

"How do you know it's food poisoning?" Stephanie asked weakly.

"I just do okay. How I know ain't important right now. What _is_ important is that you need a doc and fast! I know just the guy. He'll get you fixed up and he'll keep your secret; okay? Now just get in." Jazz answered immediately.

Stephanie got back in the car slowly. Every part of her body seemed to suddenly have lost all strength while turning to rubber. As soon as she got the seat belt buckled, she was pressed back into the seat as Jazz took off at a high rate of speed. She knew he was driving fast, but without being able to see; she couldn't tell _how_ fast, and maybe that was just as well, because he seemed to be really moving out!

_"Ratchet! I got a human girl with me. She's got food poisoning from salmonella. I'm bringin her to ya, because she don't wanna trust the human authorities. There's somethin else ya need ta know. She's blind, and she's got a ton of scars from getting burned and I'd swear that it was caused by some kind of a plasma weapon!"_ Jazz sent via comm signal.

When Ratchet sent his acknowledgement that he was getting the medbay ready Jazz could have breathed a sigh of relief. Knowing that she'd be in good, capable hands took a tremendous load off his processors. Now the only thing that worried him was; how the slagging _pit_ was he supposed to tell her what he really was? He wasn't sure of the answer to that question, but he hoped that he'd come up with something before he had to let Ratchet treat the girl.

Stephanie held on to the armrests on the door and the center console that ran between the seats. She couldn't see to anticipate any of the turns and she felt herself reacting to the acceleration forces of Jazz's driving. The racing wind, roaring engine, and howling of the road beneath the tires were all among the sounds that she heard as she held on tightly. Then she felt herself pressed against the door so hard that she was sure that only the door and the seatbelt were holding her in the seat. As hard and fast as Jazz was driving she heard him shift gears and felt him go even faster around a left hand turn, but even so, she noticed that the tires never chirped, screeched, or even slide as he made the high speed turn. Even though she couldn't see just how fast Jazz was going; she knew that something wasn't right. The tires should have made some kind of noise when he made that last turn, but they hadn't. She felt her fear rise as Jazz drove hard and fast, but smoothly at the same time. Finally she mustered up the courage to ask about it.

"How can you turn like that without sliding? What kind of car is this?" She croaked in a weak, quivering voice.

"Look, Stephanie. You trusted me… so now I'm gonna trust you. I'm not human. I'm what ya call a robot, but we call ourselves Autobots. It's a little tough ta explain, but ta sum it up, this ain't a car you're ridin in, it's me! I'm the car, and I can transform into what you would consider a robot. Right now, I'm takin ya ta see Ratchet, he's our medic, like one of your doctors, and he'll get ya taken care of, okay?" Jazz explained quickly when he saw his chance to break the news to her.

The sudden expression of terror on the girl's face nearly broke his spark in two and Jazz knew that a little more of an explanation was needed. "Hey, I gave ya my word that you'd be fine. I meant that. Ain't nothin gonna happen ta ya except that you're gonna see Ratchet so he can get you cured, then I'll get either him or Wheeljack ta make ya a new cane that won't get broke so easily. Ya ain't gettin kidnapped or nothin, so don't worry about that. You're safe; understand?" He said in as gentle and comforting a tone as he could.

Stephanie swallowed hard when she heard Jazz tell her the truth. Terror filled her mind as she suddenly realized just how helpless she really was in this situation. She was alone, unable to see, and with no idea where she was, or how fast she was going. She couldn't even tell if she could jump out or not! With very few exceptions, almost all of the robot movies she'd ever heard of had been about evil robots, and now she was riding in one!

"Are... are you... an army robot?" Stephanie asked fearfully.

"In a way; I guess ya could say that I am. But I'm not from Earth so ya don't have ta worry about that. Me an my friends are from the planet Cybertron, and well... we can't go back, so we're makin a new home here." Jazz told her calmly.

"Are you going to ex... ex... do tests on me or something?"

_'She's just a kid! Somehow, I gotta figure out how ta get her ta calm down and relax a bit'._ Jazz reminded himself firmly.

"Stephanie... I promise ya. Nothing is going to happen to you that you don't agree with. If something comes up that you don't like the sound of; then you say so and I'll put a stop to it right then; okay? You're safe with me and I'll do whatever it takes ta keep that promise." He said in a reassuring tone.

She nodded her head and was about to reply when another urge caught her attention. "O... oh god... I... I think... I'm gonna puke again." She said weakly while trying in vain to gain control of her rebellious stomach.

Jazz quickly pulled over and rolled to a stop. He unlatched the seatbelt and opened his passenger side door so the girl could get out easily. That didn't go as well as he'd hoped. Instead of getting out properly, the girl simply fell out in a seemingly boneless heap, and began retching violently. They were lucky in that it was well after dark and the traffic was sparse so that there was no one around to observe what was happening. Jazz's spark ached in sympathy for the girl who simply huddled on the ground for several minutes while she suffered her way through numerous, painful and violent dry heaves. He knew she was miserable; that much was obvious from the way she couldn't even stay on her hands and knees. When she finally started to climb back in after nearly twenty minutes painful retching; Jazz could see that she was clearly exhausted.

"Just take your time. I'm not goin anywhere without ya an I'm not gonna leave ya. I've already contacted Ratchet and he's waitin on us. So just take it easy an I'll get ya there; okay?" Jazz told her comfortingly.

When she only nodded her head while struggling to get back in his passenger seat, Jazz knew that she was a lot weaker than she should be at this point. He didn't know the cause of her rapid decline, but he wasn't about to let that stop him from getting her the help she needed. He could have almost smiled in relief when she finally slumped down into the seat.

She gasped in surprise when she felt the seatbelt snake its way across her body and click into place. Then came the thump of the car door shutting, before she was once more pressed firmly back in the seat when Jazz took off again. She had no idea where she was at this point or where she was being taken and she was too miserable to really care. Her head felt like it was trying to explode, she felt weak, tired, and plagued with a stomach that was churning cruelly. She knew that Jazz was right in that she needed a doctor, but all she really wanted to do was curl up somewhere and sleep.

Jazz made the final turn after checking in at the gate to the base and stuck his accelerator pedal to his floor board. He didn't need to be a human physician to know that the symptoms were hitting the girl in his passenger seat a lot harder and faster than they should have. This was turning out to be one _really_ nasty case of food poisoning and right now the only thing Jazz could do was rush her straight to Ratchet, which was exactly what he was doing.

Jazz was instantly relieved when he saw Ratchet waiting for him in the medbay. The electric green medic had everything set up and was ready to go. Jazz rolled to a stop and opened his passenger side door.

"Ya need ta get her Ratch. I don't think she's too coherent right now." Jazz exclaimed worriedly.

Ratchet took one look at the nearly unconscious passenger and knew that the saboteur was telling the truth. Who ever she was, was completely out of it thanks to a raging fever. He took in the rolling, half lidded eyes, the pasty complexion, the gaunt body, and the light sheen of sweat that was now covering her dirt stained skin. Ratchet reached in and lifted the girl out of the Solstice so that Jazz could transform. While the girl was in his hand, he conducted a scan of the girl's body to determine the full extent of her condition and he did _not_ like what he found!

"Where the slag are her parents?" Ratchet asked angrily as he placed the limp form on a bed designed for humans.

"I don't know. I didn't really get a chance ta ask her. All I know is that she ran away from a foster home, when they kept tellin her how much they hated her an was costin em. She's been living alone on the streets; hidin from everybody. That's about all I know Ratch." Jazz answered bluntly.

"Hmm... A foster home would mean that she's a ward of the state. I can tell you that she's been living on her own for quite a while now. Half starved, malnourished, and somewhat dehydrated; she's so far beyond the state of filthy that it doesn't even merit discussion. It's a Primus blessed miracle that she doesn't have parasites such as lice or crabs, but then with all that dirt she's covered in, and considering the way she stinks, they probably couldn't stand to get near her." Ratchet grumbled as he began to remove the grimy, filth encrusted rags that the girl was wearing for clothes.

Ratchet hadn't even removed a third of the girl's clothing before she started struggling against him, fighting weakly, but valiantly to stop him from taking the rest of her clothes off. The medic soon found that he had his hands full with the girl. He couldn't finish removing her rags of clothing without risking injury to her and that was something he wasn't willing to do, but he needed to get her undressed so he could treat her illness. Finally deciding that he'd just have to treat what he could until she was more coherent and therefore able to cooperate; Ratchet went to prepare some injections.

First, Ratchet administered a high powered antibiotic consisting of amoxicillin, erythromycin, anti-nausea medication, and a sedative. He knew that he'd used a little over kill on the antibiotics, but given the amount of dirt and grime on the girl, he also knew that she needed it. He waited a few minutes for the sedative to take effect, before he inserted an N.G. tube to both pump her stomach clear of any fluid build up and to administer further doses of medication. With the tube in place, he injected an antibacterial agent directly into her digestive tract to fight the bacterial infection caused by the salmonella poisoning. Now, all he could do was wait.

Ratchet turned to face the recently revived Jazz with a heavy expression. He studied the saboteur for a moment while he gathered his thoughts. He didn't know what had transpired for Jazz to meet the girl he'd brought in for treatment, and while it was obvious that the girl _did_ need that treatment, it was also plain that Jazz didn't know much about her either!

"Your suspicion was correct. Her injuries _are_ the result of plasma fire! The retinas of her eyes have been seared in such a way that she's been permanently flash blinded. Off hand, I'd have to say that it was a fairly high powered shot and that she only caught some of the splash damage after being blinded by a near miss. Wheeljack has been working on trying to develop a neural interface so that I'd be able to replace a severed limb. If he manages to create one that works, I might be able to fashion some prosthetic eyes for her, but he hasn't had any luck so far. I keep hoping though, because the number of humans who need such replacements are staggering. In the mean time, I can treat her food poisoning and when she wakes up; I'm hoping she'll be feeling up to getting herself cleaned up. If she's not then I hope she'll at least cooperate while someone else does it for her. Can you tell me how she got caught in the fire of a Cybertronian weapon?" Ratchet said sadly.

"No, I can't. Everything just kind of happened quick ya know. One second she's gettin robbed, and the next... well I'm parked on what she was usin for a cane ta see with. When she told me she was blind; I scanned her and saw the energy traces and that's when I figured that I oughta bring her here ta see if maybe you could do something. She told me a little about what her life is like on her own an made me promise that she wouldn't have ta go back ta that foster home. Next thing ya know; she's purgin all over the alley." Jazz answered disgustedly.

"It was a slagging beat up pole Ratch! How was I sposed ta know she needed it ta see! If I hadn't stopped on top of it..."

"If you hadn't stopped on top of it; you would have left and she'd _still_ be as sick as she is, and probably laying in a hole somewhere dieing! Like it or not; you saved her life tonight, Jazz. If she's had to hide from everyone like you said, then she would have gone back into hiding when she realized that she was sick. So by the time she figured out that she _was_ deathly ill; it would have been too late and she wouldn't have had the strength to get help." Ratchet interrupted angrily.

"Look, we both know that you didn't intend any harm. What's wrong with her right now was caused by living amidst trash! With things the way they are now, there's at least the chance that some things can be made right. So don't beat yourself up over this. She's here, she's safe, and she's far better off than she'd be out on the streets living in some alley or cardboard box. I'll let the human authorities know that we have her, so they can make appropriate arrangements..."

"Ya ain't gonna tell em a slaggin thing! I promised her that I wouldn't turn her in ta them. _Twice!_ An there ain't no way that you're gonna make me break that promise! I told her that I'd do whatever it took ta keep my promise an make sure that she didn't have ta go back ta that slaggin foster home! She flat _told_ me that living like that was better than that place! So I ain't lettin ya tell _none_ of em; understand?" Jazz yelled angrily as he advanced threateningly on the medic.

Ratchet knew instantly that Jazz was serious. A large part of the mech's role in the war effort was infiltrating the enemy ranks and that involved heavy amounts of deception. Jazz tended to compensate for those lies by seldom giving his word about anything and being overly meticulous about keeping that word on those rare occasions that he did give it. Ratchet knew that the issue of informing the proper authorities was more of a legal or political matter than a medical one and that it wouldn't necessarily stop him from treating the girl's illness. The injuries from the plasma fire on the other hand; made her case particularly touchy. Those scars were more than a few years old and had been caused by a weapon that could only have been used by either a Decepticon or an Autobot. Ratchet couldn't think of any possible instance in which she would have encountered that type of weapons fire in the US. Then he looked at Jazz and the answer stuck him. There _was_ one possibility, but only one and it was also where Jazz had found the girl. Mission City!


	2. Chapter 2

TTTB2

At first, she woke up slowly. Then the vague, hazy memories of someone trying to take what few clothes she had caused her to bolt straight up in fright. Her right hand patted her chest to see what she still had on, then her pocket to see if the ten dollar bill was still there, next it went to her lap, and what she felt there was a shock. Her mouth dropped open even as she froze in disbelief at the feel of a blanket with actual sheets. Her mind was ablaze with wonder she started feeling around the rest of the bed that she was in. The pillow was plump and had to be nearly new and the same went for the rest of the bedding. If she didn't know better; she could almost swear that the past five years had been nothing more than a nightmare suffered while she'd been asleep. _Almost_! The darkness that met her eyes when she deliberately blinked told her that it was still true and no matter how much she might desperately wish otherwise it would remain that way. She tried to remember how she'd gotten here, but the last thing she remembered was being with someone named Jazz.

Then, like an out of control rocket, it all came rushing back in an instant. The lucky find of the sandwich, the wind blowing the money to her, the man who snatched it and Jazz who'd stopped him. She remembered Jazz stopping on her old beat up fishing pole that she used as a cane and his promise to replace it. Then she recalled what had been said after she'd gotten sick and total confusion filled her mind. A slight machine like hum somewhere off to her right drew her attention, and she remembered what she'd been told.

"J... Jazz? Is... is that you?" She asked nervously.

"Actually my name is Ratchet. Jazz is currently talking with Wheeljack to see about getting a new cane for you." Said a gruff but at the same time, a seemingly kind voice with a slight accent.

Stephanie scooted towards the far side of the bed in fear. She had no idea where she was, Jazz wasn't around for her to get answers from, and she was now with a stranger that she hadn't even met.

"Are... are you a robot too?" She asked softly almost afraid of the answer she'd get.

"We prefer to call ourselves Autonomous Robotic Life forms from the planet Cybertron, or simply Autobots for short. We are also called mechs or bots, but yes, I am what you would consider a robot. I don't suggest that you use that particular word very often around us. It's considered to be a very serious insult, much like someone calling you a crippled bum. I know you didn't mean it that way, which is why I'm letting you know not to use that term in the future." Ratchet replied candidly.

"Okay. I'll... I'll remember that."

"Good. I don't suppose that I could interest you in making use of a shower could I?" Ratchet suggested easily.

Stephanie's face lit up brightly at the thought of a shower, a chance to actually get _clean_ for once!

"Do you have any soap and shampoo?" Stephanie asked with a hopeful smile.

Ratchet reset his optics in surprise at just how eagerly the girl had responded to his offer. He knew that she would still be weak and easily worn out during the next few days while she recovered her strength, but the high powered treatments that he'd given her had worked perfectly.

"Humpf! A new bar and a full bottle just in case you decide to use the whole thing." He shot back with a smirk. '_Which I might recommend_.' He added silently.

"_Awesome_!" Stephanie yelled ecstatically as she got off the bed and happily started forward.

"_Don't move_!" Ratchet yelled suddenly.

The medic's shoulders slumped in relief when the girl froze in fright. "You are only sixteen point three inches from a ledge which is nine feet off the floor." Ratchet explained quickly.

Stephanie felt the blood drain from her face when she heard that she was no more than one or two steps away from a _very_ serious fall. She shuddered hard at the thought of how badly her legs could have been broken in just another second if Ratchet hadn't warned her the way he had. There were some risks that she was used to taking, risks that she was accustomed to, but then there were others that positively frightened her right out of her mind, and being disabled more than she already was topped the list.

"First let me tell you that blindness isn't something that we are affected by, and since you can't see what I look like; I will tell you that I am about twenty feet tall. That is why your bed is on an elevated ledge so that it's more convenient for me to treat your condition. This is my med bay or infirmary as you humans call it. Most of the humans that we deal with regularly don't object to being carried when they are around us. They have an advantage in that they can see when they are about to be lifted up and can say whether they prefer to walk or not. I'm telling you this because I don't want to scare you when I pick you up to set you down on the floor; understand?" Ratchet explained as gently as he could as he stepped forward.

"O... okay." Stephanie managed after swallowing a lump that had formed in her throat.

Although Ratchet had never actually dealt with anyone, mech or human who was truly blind, he had reviewed a lot of information on the web. He knew that a lack of sight forced a certain level of trust that often had to be placed in complete strangers, and as much as he hated to admit it, without a cane to allow the girl to get around properly, this was going to be one of them. He felt the girl go stiff as a board when he placed he hand around her. Then in a smooth motion he put her down on the floor and kept his hand around her while she got her balance, before stepping back.

"I have a shower room attached to the medbay for use by humans after assisting me with repairs on the bots we have here on base. It doesn't get used very often, but you're welcome to use it as often as you want. I can guide you to it, but the doors are too small for me, so I can't go in there."

"You wouldn't happen to have a scrub brush around do you? Rags and bath scrubbies don't work on my scars. At least; that's what they said at the group foster home I was in." Stephanie said explaining her odd request.

Ratchet stepped over to the tool chests that were lined up along one wall and retrieved a scrub brush that was used in cleaning away dried energon. It had been cleaned and sterilized after the previous use, so it would be safe for her to use without risk of energon poisoning. He stepped back over to her and held the brush out towards her.

"Here's one."

"Okay if you and Jazz didn't tell me that you were from outer space, this _would_! A real bed, a good pillow, a hot shower with soap, and an actual scrub brush that I can use? I could almost swear this was heaven!" Stephanie exclaimed happily, as she held out her right hand for the brush.

Ratchet grinned and had to admit that the girl's enthusiasm was infectious as he placed the scrub brush in her outstretched hand. "Now, if you'll make a half turn to your right; the first door to the showers will be straight ahead of you, but there's a second door a few feet past the first. The showers are set up like those in a high school, so they're single gender only. There are five stalls on the right hand side. The first three are showers and the last two are toilet stalls. Those have doors where the showers themselves do not. You'll need to be careful of the bench that sits in the center of the walkway. It's bolted to the floor, so it won't move. On the left hand wall are sinks that extend to the back wall. The back wall is filled with lockers. There are fresh hygiene supplies in each of the shower stalls."

Stephanie nodded as she listened carefully to the description of the shower room. The warning about the bench in the center was appreciated. She formed a basic map in her mind of how the showers were laid out. Now, all she had to do was keep that image in mind while she followed Ratchet's directions to get there.

As soon as she went through the second door, she began feeling in front of her for the bench. She found it a few feet from the door. It was right where Ratchet had described it. Since she had once been able to see, she could picture what things were supposed to look like. It was just about the only advantage she had left over from her time with vision, and she made use of it often.

Stephanie sat down on the bench and removed her grimy filth caked clothes, and laid them on the bench. Getting up with the scrub brush in her left hand; she stretched her right hand out in front of her and felt her way to the far shower which was next to the toilets. Soft, feather light touches explored the walls of the shower so she could find the soap and shampoo. She placed the scrub brush on the shelf beneath the soap. Then she turned her attention to the back wall where the controls were located. She reached over head with her right hand and found the showerhead. That she aimed to the side until she got the water turned on and adjusted to the preferred temperature.

With the water set as hot as she could stand it; Stephanie was reveling in the chance to get truly clean for once. She started by washing her hair. Knowing that she couldn't see how dirty the suds were, and not wanting to waste this opportunity, she washed it three more times to make sure she got it clean. Finally; she got the soap and scrub brush and put them to good use. She sat down on the shower floor to scrub her feet several times, and made sure that all the soap was off of them before she got back up.

Standing beneath the nearly solid stream of steaming hot water; Stephanie lost all track of time. She was thoroughly enjoying herself, and the hot shower. It was only one of the many things she missed about living in a home, but the cold blatant hatred directed towards her in the group foster home had been unbearable. She'd given up things like this, a wonderful shower, a clean bed, and fresh hot food, because even the handed down clothes that she'd been given were obviously and loudly begrudged. Doing without such things was offset by the lack of hate from the adults, and she didn't have to listen to the ideas and plans that some of the other kids came up with to play dangerous jokes on her.

Once again; memories of how she'd once had everything that now truly mattered to her rose within her mind. A family that loved her, clothes that were new, a soft warm bed to sleep in, meals that were made by someone who actually cared if she got enough to eat, and a feeling that she was not just wanted, but loved. It had never really registered before, and was always something that she'd taken for granted. Now things were different. Now she knew what she had truly lost that horrible day, and once again that painful loss brought tears to her eyes.

As she entered the shower room to check on Ratchet's guest; she was hit with a near solid wall of steam. Sarah Lennox's eyes widened in disbelief at the sheer density of it. Even with the excellent ventilation that had been designed into the room; it was _still_ densely filled with massive clouds of steam from the shower the girl was taking! Sarah walked over to the far shower where the girl was relaxing beneath the spray and took a look at the latest new comer to the Autobot base.

A look of horror crossed Sarah's face as she took in the truly nasty burn scar that ran from the girl's left hip all the way up to the top of her left shoulder, down the left arm and reached the center of her back. Twisted tangles of scar tissue that resembled nothing less than the horrific face of the famous or infamous Freddy Kruger graced almost half of the girl's upper body. The sight was made even worse by the pale unblemished skin of the other side. Sarah swallowed hard as she tried to overcome the sick feeling in her stomach at the sight of that huge scar. She'd almost succeeded in her effort when the girl turned around.

Sarah gaped in renewed horror at the sight of a nearly normal left nipple resting squarely in the midst of the twisted and scarred flesh. She could see that the left arm was covered in the same burn all the way down to the back of her hand. She couldn't even imagine how painful it must have been to endure something like that. That was when she noticed just how skinny the girl was. The massive scar only enhanced the appearance of the near anorexic state that the girl was in. Even through the thick tangled and twisted mess of scar tissue, the girl's ribs were clearly delineated, and even for a Registered Nurse, it was hard to look at. Catching herself firmly, Sarah shook her head with a stern reminder to stop being rude. It didn't matter that the girl couldn't see her; it was still wrong. With that in mind, she made herself look at the girl's face. There was a startled look of almost fear in the girl's expression as she turned her head in different directions as if looking for something.

It had taken a long while before she stopped crying over the things, and a life that she no longer had. Once she did stop; she simply stood there in the shower and let the near scalding water cascade down her body. She'd kept turning up the heat as she grew accustomed to it, and by now, she was sure that she was as red as the crab legs that she remembered her dad loving to eat. She smiled at how he was almost greedy when it came to seafood like that. A sudden draft of cold air brought her out of her memories, and she knew that someone had come in. She turned around and listened carefully, but couldn't hear anything that would reveal the presence of another person.

"Is someone there?" She finally asked with more fear in her voice than she'd intended.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that the girl was scared about something. The tone she'd used when she asked the question told Sarah that much.

"I'm Sarah Lennox. Ratchet asked me to check on you and make sure that you haven't drowned yet." She said in as normal a tone as she could.

"Drowned? How can you drown in a shower?" Stephanie asked confused.

"Okay, his exact words were; 'Go make sure that she hasn't washed enough dirt off to let her slide down the drain' and he sounded pretty serious when he said it." Sarah said as she tried to mimic the deep gruff tone of the medic.

Stephanie let out a rueful snort of laughter. "Well, I _was_ reallyfilthy when I came in."

"Um... yes. Speaking of filthy, I'll be right back in just a second. You just go ahead with your shower." Sarah said as she grabbed the smelly rags that were supposed to be clothing and held her breath.

Another sudden draft made Stephanie shiver, and she huddled under the hot water until it passed. Then just a few minutes later, there was another draft of cold air as the door opened again.

"I told Ratchet that you were just fine, and he said that you are to take as long as you want. He did add the instruction that you are to be _clean_ when you come out! Sorry, his words not mine." Sarah said as she the placed clean clothes and a dry towel on the bench where the old ones had been.

Again, Stephanie gave another rueful half snort half laugh. "I guess he doesn't like the smell of dumpsters and sewers much; does he?"

Sarah frowned at that comment. Ratchet had filled her in on what he knew about the girl Jazz had brought in two days ago, but she hadn't expected her to be so honest about where she'd been living. "No he doesn't. He's a little strange sometimes, but he's kind of nice once you get to know him."

Stephanie shivered as she turned off the water. Without the steaming hot water of the shower, the surrounding air felt cold, and she felt goose bumps form everywhere that wasn't covered by the scar. She felt around and got the scrub brush and shook it several times to get the water out of it, before making her way to the bench.

"I'll trade you. Towel for the brush?" Sarah offered easily.

It had taken some effort, but she was starting to get over the sight of the massive scar that covered nearly half of the girl's upper body. When the scrub brush was held out to her; she took it and handed the towel over in exchange. She waited in silence as the girl slowly dried off and then sat down on the bench after feeling for its location.

Stephanie finished drying off and reached for her clothes. The feel of the cloth that met her fingers wasn't the least bit familiar to her.

"Where's my clothes?"

"Ratchet put those in the incinerator. He said they deserved a proper burial, but he didn't want them to cause any environmental contamination either. Somehow; I don't think he was joking when he said that." Sarah answered quickly. "He said to give you these, since they'll fit properly, and he apologizes for the fact that they're used, but he hasn't had the chance to get you anything new except for the socks and underwear."

"I... I had a ten dollar bill in one of my pockets." Stephanie muttered plaintively.

"Yes, he found it and he's running it through a sanitizer! He said a good round of steam powered sterilization would do it some good."

Stephanie sighed in relief. Money wasn't something she got a hold of very often, and when she did, it was usually only change that she had to save up to get a candy bar or bag of chips, but on rare occasions, she'd been able to afford a cup of coffee from a vendor, and the hot drink had gone a long way in satisfying her craving for hot food. She picked up the clothes, and sorted through them to find the underwear which she quickly put on. It was while she was pulling on the jeans that she realized she hadn't given her name.

"My name's Stephanie. Sorry for not telling you sooner. I'm not used to talking to people, since I usually have to hide from them." She said sadly.

"Well, you won't have to worry about hiding while you're here. The Autobots tend to be pretty serious about the safety of their friends." Sarah answered reassuringly.

"I still can't believe that I woke up in a real bed and got to take a hot shower, and now I've even got clean clothes too. I don't even know when the last time I got to bathe was. I used to hate it when my Momma made me wash up, but now..." Stephanie said sadly while putting on the T-shirt.

Sarah watched the girl have quite a bit of trouble with the T-shirt since the scar tissue of her left shoulder had severely limited the mobility of her left arm. The girl slid her left arm into the sleeve first, and then put her head and the rest of her body into the shirt. It was a somewhat strange process to watch, but the way Stephanie had done it; it was obviously one that she was very familiar with.

"Can I ask where your mother is now?" Sarah asked gently.

"She's dead. Momma, Daddy, and my little sister Celeste; my whole family. They're all dead." Stephanie said softly as tears began running slowly down her cheeks.

"Oh Stephanie. I'm so sorry." Sarah told her as she pulled the girl into a light but heartfelt embrace.

"They wouldn't even tell me what happened! I don't know how they died! I wake up in a hospital like this and... and..." Stephanie wailed softly as she started sobbing in earnest.

Sarah Lennox felt her blood run cold at those words. She could only remember how devastated she'd been when she'd heard the news about the total destruction of the Soccent Air base in Qatar, and therefore her husband's death. But then, she'd been given the miracle of his return, and she knew that this girl in her arms would never receive such comfort. She pulled Stephanie into a tighter hug and let the girl cry. She didn't know what to tell her, because she knew from her own experience that nothing would ever, _could_ ever make it better. It wasn't more than a moment before tears of sympathy filled her own eyes, as she too felt the gut wrenching anguish that went with such loss.

Within a few seconds, she felt Stephanie's right arm wrap around her as the girl started crying even harder. Sarah did the only thing she could in that moment; she let the girl cry, held her comfortingly, and was there for her.

There had been many times that she'd cried over the loss of her family. There'd even been several times that her family had been brought up by others, but never once had anyone expressed any sympathy. When she was at the hospital; the doctors and nurses would never talk to her unless it was to ask how she was feeling. At the group foster home; it was even worse. The cruel jokes made by the other kids, and vicious comments made by the couple who ran the place would have brought tears to her eyes even if she hadn't suffered such loss. Never, in all the time that had passed, never once had she really had the opportunity to just let her grief run its course. Now in the arms of a stranger; Stephanie was doing just that.

It almost seemed like an eternity to Sarah, before the girl's sobs slowed and eventually stopped, but it was obvious to her that it was something the girl needed. She had no idea how old Stephanie was, but she had to be fairly young. Even after the crying stopped, Sarah continued to hold her arms around the girl; doing nothing more than offering the same comfort she would have wanted. Finally, Stephanie sat up still sniffling and wiped her face with her right hand.

"I'm sorry. I... I just..."

"Don't worry about that at all, Stephanie. I know exactly how you feel. A few years ago, I heard the news on TV about how the base where my husband was, had been destroyed, and that there were no survivors." Sarah began, but paused when she saw the expression of fresh grief on the girl's face. "They were wrong. Will _did_ survive, but I didn't find that out until almost a week later. I felt the same way that you do; like my whole world had been destroyed right along with that base. I can't tell you that it will get better, because I don't know that it will. What I will tell you is that if you ever want to talk about it; I'll listen; okay?"

Stephanie nodded her head, and wiped her face with the towel she'd used to dry off. She didn't know what to say. What _did_ you say to someone who'd just let you cry in their arms like a little baby?

"Come on. Put your socks and shoes on, and let's go see Ratchet, besides, I'm pretty sure he's getting a little impatient by now." Sarah told her as she placed the pair of socks in the girl's hand.

Stephanie put the socks on, and she was pleased that they were also new. It took an effort for her not to think of her parents just then, but she managed it, barely. When she had the socks on, Sarah handed her one of the shoes. Stephanie ran her fingers around it to get an idea of what it was. A kind of boot, with a nearly flat sole and a zippered side met her fingers.

"A zipper?" She asked a little confused.

"I can't say that I'm a fan of those boots, but Ratchet was right about one thing; you can't trip on an untied shoelace if you don't have any shoe laces, now can you?" Sarah answered with a rueful laugh.

Stephanie didn't know what to say in answer to that, so she didn't say anything. She put the left one on first, and realized that unlike what she'd been wearing; these fit perfectly. She wouldn't need to wear three pair of socks to prevent blisters. Once she had both boots on, and zipped; she was as ready as she'd ever be. Plus she was getting tired, and more than a little hungry, and she had no idea where she'd be able to find something to eat.

"Here. If you'll take my arm I'll guide you back into the medbay." Sarah offered when the girl had gotten her boots on.

Stephanie reached out with her right hand, and hit the woman's left elbow with the tips of her fingers almost immediately. Allowing someone to act as a guide for her had been one of the lessons she'd been able to learn before running away from the group home. She started walking hesitantly forward, and soon heard the sounds that the doors to the shower room made as Sarah opened them for her. It was a very strange feeling to be put in a position to have to place trust in people who were strangers to her, and it was one that she didn't like. Living on the streets the way she had been doing had taught her the hard way that there were a very, _very_ few people that could be trusted. Other homeless people had stolen most of what little she'd had when she'd first started living on her own. Then, after several days she'd run into a woman who had shown her how to survive. The lady had turned out to have severe mental instabilities and had driven her away after a while.

"Whoa! Talk about a Cinderella style make over! Someone's lookin ready for a night on the town. Ya could have _told_ me that ya clean up good, Steph!" Said a deep humor filled voice.

"Jazz? Is that you?" She asked a little uncertainly.

"Yeah Kiddo. It's the one and only me. I'm so unique and one of a kind that even impersonators can't get it right! Ratchet told me you were doin better, but I didn't wanna believe it unless I saw it myself. So how ya feelin?" Jazz replied in a joking tone.

"A little tired, but I'm a lot cleaner than I've been in a long time." She said happily.

"That does not sound very reassuring. The type and amount of grime that you were _caked_ in when you arrived will _not_ be tolerated while you are here." Ratchet intoned irritably.

Stephanie frowned when she heard that. After all, it wasn't as if she _enjoyed_ being dirty! What did he think she was; some kind of pig that liked to wallow in mud?

"I want to see _you_ try living on your own in the sewers for four years and see how good you stay clean!" She answered defensively.

"Four _years_! How in the world did you manage to live like that for four years? You can't be more than thirteen!" Sarah burst out in dismay.

"I didn't have a choice. The man and woman who ran that foster home didn't want me there. They hated me, and always complained about how much money I was costing them because of medical bills, and therapy. They... they didn't even care that the other kids were making jokes about how they could trip me at the top of the stairs by sliding something at my feet." Stephanie shot back in a sad but defensive tone.

"Slagging pits! Even a fall on a level surface is four times as likely to cause a severe injury for the visually impaired, but factor in a flight of stairs... What the pit were those kids planning to do; kill you? Those _weren't_ jokes!" Ratchet interrupted angrily.

"That's why I had to leave, and I didn't have anywhere else to go. I don't like hiding, but I don't have any choice." Stephanie answered defiantly on the verge of angry tears.

"What about..." Ratchet began to ask when he saw Sarah shaking her head no, while silently mouthing the words. "Don't ask about her family."

"What about other members of the foster care system? Have you spoken to them about this?" Ratchet asked quickly to provide a cover for the topic he'd been about to bring up.

"Why? So I can be put in a place that's just as bad, or even worse? I'd rather eat garbage." Stephanie replied morosely.

"Well, you won't be doing that while you're here either! If you want something to eat, then just say so. Speaking of which, I'd bet my last five hundred and twenty one credits that you're hungry by now, so let's head over to the rec room and get you something to eat." Ratchet stated firmly at first, but saying the last with a little more compassion.

"Now wait just a minute! What are you doin with credits, where did ya get em, an how come I ain't won em from ya yet?" Jazz promptly demanded as he rounded on the medic.

"Where I got them, is from Cybertron. I have them because they are _mine_. You haven't won them, and you're not going to. I have very little to remind me of home, and I will _keep_ what few items I have." Ratchet stated precisely with a glare at the saboteur.

Ratchet was about to say more when he was cut short by an ominous rumble emerging from the abdomen of his patient. The medic turned his attention to Stephanie who looked not only embarrassed, but apprehensive as well. A thorough scan revealed that while she'd gotten herself cleaned up, she still had a phenomenal case of dandruff, and that she was now decidedly hungry.

When he heard the girl's stomach growl like that; Jazz knew that she needed something to eat. He didn't think anything of it as he stepped forward and was reaching out to pick her up when Ratchet stopped him by grabbing his shoulder. "What are ya doin?"

"Jazz, I know that we routinely carry our human friends around with no problems, but she can't see what you're about to do. So ask her permission first. That way she'll know what's happening. Otherwise you'll frighten her." Ratchet told Jazz after grabbing the mech's shoulder to stop him.

"Stephanie, I don't want you to take this the wrong way. We often offer to carry humans who happen to be our friends, because it's easier for them and us to do it that way. Even though they can see just fine, keeping up with us isn't even easy for some of the soldiers who work with us, because they have to run to maintain our pace, or we have to walk almost painfully slow. We normally either carry people in our hands, or if we feel comfortable with their presence; we allow them to ride on our shoulder. From there, they are able to look at our faces without straining their necks. It also means that we aren't looking down at them as well." Ratchet informed her in a gentle tone.

Jazz shot the medic a strange look. He couldn't for the spark of him figure out why the CMO was actually being _nice_ for once! A yelling, threatening, tantrum throwing, wrench hurling medic was something he knew how to deal with, but a _nice_ Ratchet? That was about as likely as getting Devastator to permanently join the Autobots! Jazz became certain that something was up with the medic, and while he didn't know what it was; he was determined to find out.

"Do they really do that all the time?" Stephanie asked Sarah after pulling on her arm to get her attention.

"Actually; they do. It used to terrify me to no end to see Ironhide carrying my daughter Annabelle around almost fifteen feet off the ground, because she's only six, but after being around them for the past few years; I've learned that they won't let anything happen to anyone who's with them." Sarah answered easily.

Stephanie turned her head in the direction that she'd heard Jazz's voice coming from. "What... what do you want me to do?" She asked more than a little nervously.

"Aw... That's easy! Just relax an let the Jazz Man do tha walkin! I ain't gonna drop ya, an I ain't gonna let ya fall either; so all ya gotta do is enjoy the ride." Jazz told her spiritedly.

"Okay... At least I'm not filthy, smelly, and puking this time." Stephanie answered uncertainly.

"Yeah, well. Don't worry about it. That's what we got wash racks for. They're just like showers; except they're built big enough for us ta use." Jazz told her as he wrapped his hands around her waist to pick her up.

As soon as she felt the large fingers around her waist, Stephanie moved her right arm so she could keep her hand free to grab on to something if she felt herself slipping. She didn't know how far off the floor she'd been lifted, but as fast as it had happened, it didn't feel like it was fifteen feet. She felt Jazz shift the hold he had on her right before she felt something bump against the back of her legs. Then, she was suddenly sitting on a very solid surface, and she couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. She felt Jazz hold her with one hand, while a finger that felt as if it was impossibly huge guided her hands to places where she could actually hold on.

"You need to hold her in your hands! _Not_ on your slagging shoulder!" Ratchet groused quickly.

"Awww. Come on Ratch. She's fine! It ain't like I'm gonna drop her or nothin." Jazz retorted casually.

"She's _not_ fine, Jazz. She's terrified! She may be trying not to show it, but scans don't lie." Ratchet shot back angrily.

Jazz didn't take the medic at his word, but decided to scan the girl himself to find out if she was frightened or not. The results showed him that while most of her vital signs were elevated; her heart was positively racing! He knew then that the medic was right, Stephanie _was_ scared, and she was trying very hard not to show it.

"Looks like you're right, Ratch." Jazz said, reluctantly agreeing with the medic. Then, he turned his attention to Stephanie. "I think I'd better carry ya in my hands for now. How does that sound?"

Stephanie tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat so she could answer the mech. "I think that'll be better until I get used to it."

"That's fine. I never make it a habit ta argue with a Lady. Besides, I'm a lover, not a fighter." Jazz responded smoothly.

Ratchet wasn't fooled for a split micro second! The jovial tone and joking attitude currently on display by the saboteur, was shallow, lacking, and no where near the level easy self confidence that had been one of the mech's calling cards prior to his death. He knew that Jazz was having some difficulty coming to terms with the fact that he'd died, and the circumstances of that death. The problem was that however friendly, and outgoing Jazz might seem, he was actually a very private mech who revealed almost nothing of his personal life. Associates, comrades, and the type of friends to watch his back he had in plenty. However, Ratchet knew that there was _almost_ no one that Jazz truly confided in, and opened up to, and that was the one thing that could help the saboteur pull through this melancholy state of mind that he was in.

"Nice try Jazz, but I've heard all about you by now. So you can try to pull the wool over someone else's eyes, because I'm not buying it for an instant. You can't tell me that there's another spy among the Autobots that was able to get into the Darkmount installation and get out without them ever knowing you were there." Sarah chided with a smile.

"_Man_! I can't go anywhere without that reputation tryin ta follow my aft." Jazz said with a shake of his head. He eased his hands around the girl's waist a little tighter and lowered her down to hold her in the crook of his right arm, against his chest.

"Ya can lean back against my front bumper if ya want. That might make it a little easier ta hold on that way." Jazz suggested casually.

"Bumper? What do you mean your bumper?" Stephanie asked in confusion as she turned around and started using her right hand to examine Jazz's chest.

An expression of confused wonder crossed her face as her hand delicately explored the chest plates of the saboteur. She could feel most of the front end of the same car that she'd ridden in, but everything else was now in different places. Her head turned slightly to her right as she concentrated on what her fingers were telling her. She stood up carefully in Jazz's hand as she kept allowing her fingers to explore the metallic body beneath them. Reaching higher, her right hand moved across the upper chest. Then she used her right hand to explore the neck, and up to the mech's facial plates. As her fingers explored the smooth metal, she couldn't help but notice the alien contours of the body, but then her fingers found something on the mech's face that made her smile.

"Dimples! You got _dimples_!" Stephanie exclaimed in happy surprise.

"Dimples? Say what? Huh... Whada-ya mean I got dimples?" Jazz asked in instant confusion.

"Right here where my finger is. Dimples. They're proof that you like to smile a lot." Stephanie told him as she put the tip of her right index finger on each of the indentations on the sides of the mech's mouth.

"Oh... She's got you pegged, Jazz!" Ratchet laughed. "The Jazz man. The life of _any_ party! Admit it. She's got your number."

"Okay, so I happen ta like parties. What's the big deal about that? Nothin wrong with it." Jazz retorted. "What about you Steph? You like parties?"

Stephanie shook her head sadly. "I haven't been to a party since I turned eight."

"How long ago was that?" Ratchet asked quietly as he tried to conceal his interest.

"A long time ago... when my family died, and I got hurt." Stephanie answered despondently as she turned around and carefully sat back down in Jazz's hand.

Sarah quickly waved her hand to gain the attention of the two mechs, and once she had it, solemnly shook her head to signal them not to pursue that line of questions. She knew that the girl hadn't come to terms with either her grief, or the loss of her family.

Ratchet nodded his head to show that he understood Sarah's warning, but declined to say anything more since he wasn't exactly sure how to change the subject without making it obvious.

"Okay look, I realize that you two mechs don't need to eat, but she does, and it's time we got her some breakfast. Besides, I could do with a few bites myself you know." Sarah said coming to the rescue.

Stephanie's face brightened noticeably. "If you'll get my money for me; I'll have ten dollars so I can buy my breakfast."

"Sorry Stephanie, but they don't charge for meals in the rec room or the cafeteria, so you'll just have to save that money for something else." Sarah said without sounding the least bit apologetic about it.

"Well... do they at least have coffee there?" Stephanie asked not sure of what to say.

Sarah blinked in surprise, and both mechs would have sworn that she'd just reset her eyes. "You drink coffee? What are you doing drinking coffee at, what, thirteen… fourteen years old?"

"That's the only thing I can save up enough change for, that's good and hot." Stephanie answered softly.

"Well, there's plenty of coffee in both, but the cafeteria's too small for the mechs to enter, so we'll use the rec room where we can talk." Sarah said easily as she motioned for Ratchet to give her a lift.

Ratchet quickly picked the woman up and set her on his left shoulder so she'd be able to carry on a conversation without any problems. Jazz took up a position on the medic's left, and Ratchet instantly noticed a very stiff and rigid posture in the mech's bearing. Having known Jazz for countless thousands of years, he didn't need to ask in order to know that the mech was highly fragged off. Ratchet couldn't blame him. They'd come to Earth looking for the Allspark; not a pitched life or death battle with Megatron. Now, they find out, that there were other victims that day as well. Victims who hadn't deserved to be involved.

Sarah wasn't stupid. She knew what the time frame indicated. It didn't take a genius to figure it out either. Sure, she knew of quite a few military wives who'd become widows, but then that was a risk of getting involved with a soldier. The little girl in Jazz's arms hadn't assumed such risk, and from what she'd just said, neither had any of her family. It was enough to make someone's blood boil, and it did exactly that. She struggled to keep a lid on her temper until she could aim the full fury at someone who deserved it. The only problem was; how was she going to find out who she needed to rip into?

Jazz didn't say anything as he headed to the rec room with Stephanie in his arms. There was more than one reason for his not speaking at that moment. For one thing, the girl in his arms had lost everything that mattered to her. For another, those losses would never have happened if this war hadn't been brought to Earth. He knew that it didn't matter how sorry he was at that moment. Sorry didn't make it better. Sorry wouldn't make it right. Sorry wouldn't fix a single slagging thing! Sorry was nothing more than a pathetic way of getting over the guilt of being wrong. Sorry was just about the biggest excuse in the universe! Jazz knew the girl's life had been destroyed that day, and that perhaps the worst part was knowing that he'd been a part of the battle that had destroyed her life, and her family, and there wasn't a single 'sorry' in existence that could make up for that.


	3. Chapter 3

TTTB 3

Stephanie sat in the crook of Jazz's right arm as he carried her into the rec room.

She knew that she had very little money, but these two robots, no; _mechs_ and Mrs. Lennox were going to give her something to eat without even making her pay for it. It had been a long time since anyone had tried to actually take care of her, or even show her anything. In fact, there had been only two people who'd done so since the deaths of her family. The first was her therapist Ms. Stovall, and the second was 'Old Miss Connors' who'd proven to be more than a little on the weird side.

Old Miss Connors had shown from the very beginning that she was more than a little strange by never referring to herself as anything other than 'Old Miss Connors'. As often as she'd broken down into tears during the first few days, the old homeless woman had still made her smile. She could still hear the old woman's way of talking. _"Now honey, don't you fret over that. You know that Old Miss Connors won't let that happen, so you just let Old Miss Connors worry about it."_ She didn't care how crazy the old woman had been. No one else would bother her, and she'd felt safe while she was with the old woman.

Old Miss Connors had sort of taken her in hand and shown her the methods and means to survive on the streets. The old woman had helped her find a replacement cane after her few belongings had been stolen on the third day. She'd come to more than tolerate living on the streets in the company of Old Miss Connors. The old woman had known how to live on the streets, and had gladly taught her how to survive in such a harsh environment. She'd stayed with the woman for almost a month, before the woman had gone into a manic state, and had driven her off after coming to believe that she was sent by the government to spy for them.

Stephanie hadn't wanted to leave, but the old woman had been rather forcefully adamant, and so she'd finally left. She'd found a new area to live in, and while the smell was beyond horrible, it was a place that no one else would ever come to. Deep in the sewers of Mission City, she'd made several hiding places. Places where she could sleep without being disturbed. Places where she was safe from others who would have either turned her in for some type of reward, or would have sold or abused her for their own enjoyment.

The first time she'd encountered a few of the other homeless was during the daytime, and before she'd learned to avoid them at all costs. They had taken her makeshift cane away and forced her to the ground where they'd torn her shirt off. The sight of her scar had made them leave with disgusted comments. She hadn't been nearly as lucky during the second time when it happened at night. She still had nightmares about that time. Nightmares about what those men had laughingly done to her… and about the last thing she ever saw.

She knew beyond any doubt that she had really messed up last night. She had let not just one, but two people find her. Now because of that one mistake, she was here where there were lots of people. People who seemed to think that a foster home was a good place to be. People who didn't know just how mean and cruel the couple who ran the place had been. People who had no idea what it was like to have total strangers hate you because of how much money you'd cost them.

Once again, she wished with all her heart to have her family back. Even if she had to stay the way she was, she was sure that her family would still love her. It was a wish that she knew would never come true. She would never have a family again. It was something that she tried to accept, but at the same time, it was a horrible truth that repeatedly broke her heart. A mother; a father; either parent really, just so long as it was someone that would love her without making her feel like the trash she'd often dug through to find her latest meal.

She felt the metal arm of Jazz beneath her fingers and wondered why he would care. Why he would even bother with her. It was true that he'd broken her cane, but then he'd also gotten her help when she was sick, and he was _still_ going to get her a new cane. She knew from living on the streets that nothing was free. Everyone wanted whatever he or she could get, and it didn't matter who got hurt by the way they got it. She didn't want to think about how long she would be here, because she was sure that she was going to end up back in that group foster home, and this time, they'd end up hurting her or worse.

"Jazz, you need to tell her what you're going to do before you do it." Ratchet warned firmly, his voice startling her out of her thoughts.

"I know, I know. Ya told me before, remember?" Jazz replied as if he'd heard it a hundred times. "Okay, Steph. I'm gonna put ya down on the table, where there's a smaller table an chairs for ya ta sit down at."

"Okay." Stephanie replied nodding her head.

"The tables and chairs for us are on top of their tables so we can hold a decent conversation with them while taking break or just shooting the breeze. This is where we can get something to eat or snack on while they have some energon to refuel their systems. It's a somewhat strange arrangement, but it actually works out fairly well." Sarah told her.

Even though Jazz had warned her that he was going to set her down on the table, Stephanie was still unable to suppress an instinctive flinch of surprise when she felt his fingers wrap around her waist. Never in her life would she have thought that being around others would be so _hard_. After more than four years of living on her own, and avoiding people because of how they would treat her; she'd now become _afraid_ of them.

She grabbed a hold of Jazz's fingers so she could get her balance when he set her feet on the table. She was about to ask where one of the chairs were when Sarah got her attention.

"Have a seat over here. That way you can at least sit facing the mechs while talking to them." Sarah told her nicely as she took the girl by her right elbow and guided her towards a chair.

Stephanie quickly sat down in the chair after Sarah had taken her hand and placed her fingers on the back of it. She felt where the table was and pulled the chair out just a bit, before climbing into it. She had no idea what she was supposed to do, so she assumed the proper posture that she'd practiced so hard on, and sat there waiting.

"Okay, what do you want for breakfast?" Sarah asked kindly.

"I don't care. I'll eat whatever you want to fix. I'm not picky." Stephanie answered easily.

"Well, picky or not. You're still going to have to choose what you want, unless you'd like me to pick for you..." Sarah trailed off to allow the girl a choice.

"Okay." Stephanie said as she nodded her head in acceptance.

"Okay what? Okay that you'll choose, or okay you want me to choose?" Sarah asked a little confused.

"Will you pick for me? I don't really know what I can have." Stephanie said quietly.

Sarah was about to reply, but then she remembered the girl's ribs standing out on her body, and she decided that what Stephanie really needed was a hot, decent sized meal in her stomach.

"Sure. I can do that." Sarah said as she activated the intercom system on the table. "But first, how do you like your eggs?"

Stephanie's eyes opened wide in surprise at that question. The mere thought of fresh hot eggs on a real plate was mouth watering. Her stomach rumbled loudly in agreement with her thoughts.

"Um... cooked?" Stephanie said rather hesitantly.

"Cooked huh? Okay, how does two eggs, fried hard, with toast, hash browns, bacon, and a small bowl of grits sound?" Sarah countered with a smile.

"Like I'm in heaven." Stephanie answered in a soft awe filled tone at the thought of that much fresh food. She hadn't dared go to one of the soup kitchens for fear that Child Protective Services (CPS) would be called and she'd be sent back to that foster home.

"Make certain that the toast is whole wheat; add a large glass of Vitamin D milk, and another of orange juice. She needs the nutrition." Ratchet added quickly.

"Can I have a cup of coffee too please?" Stephanie asked hopefully in an almost plaintive tone.

"No more than two cups! You do _not_ need that much caffeine at your age." Ratchet qualified.

Stephanie brightened as Sarah placed their orders along with two containers of energon for the mechs.

"So what kinds of things do you like to do?" Sarah asked in an attempt to find out more about the girl and make some small talk.

Stephanie shrugged before she answered. "I haven't learned how to read Braille, and I don't have a radio, so there really isn't anything I can do except remember the things I used to do."

'_No wonder she hasn't come to terms with her grief. As painful as it is, she doesn't have any choice except to relive her past. I wonder if Ratchet can come up with something that might help.'_ Sarah thought when she heard that. Then she experienced a sudden revelation, right before she got a second idea. A soft smile graced her face as she looked up at Jazz.

"Hey Jazz. Do you think you could access the internet and download the information on Braille, and maybe the other things she might need to learn about her disability? Ratchet won't really have the time to teach her, with everything he's got going on, but I'm sure you would." Sarah asked in an almost innocent tone.

Jazz was about to make up an excuse to decline the request when he caught the sound of a sharp indrawn breath. A single glance at the source showed him the look of disbelief mixed with hope on the girl's face, and there was no way that he could find it in his spark to deny that possibility. "Yeah, I spose I can do that. It ain't like it's gonna kill me or nuthin." He quipped.

"You... you mean it? You'll really teach me to read again?" Stephanie asked in a tone of shocked surprise, but one of hope as well.

Any doubts or arguments that Jazz might have had were dispelled in that instant as he heard the sudden disbelieving hope in the girl's tone.

Ratchet frowned in thought as Stephanie and Jazz discussed what she still lacked as far as her education. He knew that he wasn't really busy enough to preclude teaching the girl, and that he would even have enjoyed the prospect. So why had Sarah made an excuse for him, before giving the task to Jazz in a way that left the mech with no way to make any excuses? Then it struck him, and his optics widened in surprise at just how smoothly the woman had managed to maneuver the mech into doing something that just might, with a little luck, prove beneficial to the both of the two involved.

The CMO looked down at Sarah, who had a soft smile on her face as she watched and listened to the two talk to each other. As an RN, she knew that Stephanie had gone through a tremendous amount of physical pain when she'd been injured and that the treatments would have been excruciating as well, and as a mother, she knew that the girl needed to learn to trust in someone, needed a friend that she could talk to and confide in. She figured that since he'd cared enough to bring the girl to Ratchet, that Jazz would fill that role nicely. From what little Stephanie had said, and what she knew about Jazz, both had suffered horribly in the battle of Mission City, and she hoped that maybe, just maybe the two could help each other get through what they had each suffered. The only real problem was that Stephanie hadn't been told what had actually killed her family and injured her so terribly. One thing she couldn't help but wonder though, was just how the girl would react when she finally learned the truth behind her injuries and the deaths of her family.

The food and the energon was brought out to the table by one of the mess officers on duty, and Ratchet quickly reached down and took the laden cart to place it on the table. He placed the two trays of human food in front of them before grabbing the two miniature barrels of energon for himself and Jazz.

The attention of two mechs and one woman were drawn to the girl who sat there for a full minute with her eyes closed. She was leaning over the plate of food and inhaling deeply with a light smile on her face. She kept doing this for a short period in spite of the way her stomach was loudly rumbling in hunger.

"Okay, why ain't ya eatin? Is something wrong with tha food?" Jazz asked her curiously.

Stephanie smiled widely and shook her head as she opened her eyes.

"Nope! Nothing's wrong. It just smells even better than I remember." She answered happily.

"I thought that such food was a typical breakfast for this region of the planet." Ratchet said a little puzzled.

"It is. At least, I think it is. It's been a really long time since I had bacon and eggs though." Stephanie replied.

"Then what have you been eating as a substitute?" Ratchet asked concerned.

"I eat whatever I can find or scrounge up in the dumpsters. Sometimes I find enough change in the coin return slots of vending machines or payphones to buy a bag of chips or something. When I save up enough, I usually find Vern the coffee vendor, and he'll sometimes give me a fresh hot Danish roll when I buy a cup of coffee if there's no one around." She answered plainly.

There was no visible movement from the medic except for the optics, which started twitching. Cooling fans kicked in at high speed to deal with suddenly overheating circuits, and the sounds of grinding metal greeted everyone's ears as his dental structures ground against each other.

"Am I to understand that you've been _literally_ eating _garbage_?" Ratchet demanded in a quiet voice that was filled with rage.

"Yeah... well. Like I said. I'd rather eat garbage than go back to that foster home." Stephanie answered defensively.

"We won't let you get that hungry, Stephanie. If you get hungry, and you want something, just tell one of us, okay? That's all there is to it." Sarah said gently.

"I don't want to cost you a bunch of extra money." Stephanie replied sadly.

"Okay, first off. This base is run on Government tax money; so any time you ever paid sales tax on something, then you were paying for the food that you'll be getting while you're here. Don't think of this as charity, Stephanie. Think of it as something that you've already paid for." Sarah stated firmly.

Stephanie nodded her head and felt for her tableware to start eating. She put her napkin in her lap, and was about to pick up her fork when she got an idea. She put the fork back down and felt around her plate. Grabbing a slice of toast, she placed it to one side as she slapped one of the eggs on it. Then adding some bacon, she topped it with a second slice of toast to make a sandwich. Smiling happily at how she'd managed to avoid some really messy table manners, she started to eat her breakfast sandwich.

Sarah Lennox watched the girl savor her improvised sandwich for a moment before turning her attention to her own breakfast. It wasn't too long before she'd finished eating and was enjoying her morning coffee, when she realized that the girl was doing the exact same thing.

"I take it that you enjoyed that then?" Sarah asked good-naturedly.

"Yes Ma'am! Best I've had in a long time. Sorry I can't eat all of it, but I'm so full right now, my stomach wants to bust." Stephanie answered happily with her coffee held under her nose so she could enjoy the scent.

"You obviously should _not_ have eaten that much! Why would you do such a thing if you knew that you were getting full?" Ratchet demanded angrily.

Stephanie opened her mouth to say something back but then she closed it quickly. She didn't want to say something that might make them turn her in to the foster system. Finally, she decided on one thing she _could_ say. "Because I was hungry, that's why."

"That is no excuse for overeating! You can make yourself sick by doing that. Do you _really_ want to start purging again that way you were doing the night before last? You nearly _died_, and you _would_ have if Jazz hadn't brought you to me." Ratchet countered instantly.

"What's 'purging', and don't you mean _last night_?" Stephanie asked in confusion.

"Nah, Steph. I brought ya in two nights ago, and I don't think Ratch had an easy time of it when ya got here." Jazz told her.

"Jazz is right Stephanie. Ratchet had to do a lot to get you as well as you are now. A ton of anti biotics, a sedative to keep you calm while he inserted an NG tube into your stomach to pump that clear, and then add some medications to your digestive tract to clear up the food poisoning. If you had been at a regular hospital, you'd probably still be out cold for another couple of days." Sarah said gently.

"What's a 'En Gee' tube?" She asked curiously.

"An NG tube is a Nasal Gastric tube that is inserted in through your nose, down your throat and into your stomach. I've never had one, but from what I've seen, it's very uncomfortable to have one put in or taken out while you're awake. Some patients have even said that it's more than a little painful as well." Sarah informed Stephanie, and couldn't blame the girl when she shuddered involuntarily.

"Whatever it was that you ate last nearly killed you. Do you remember what it was?" Ratchet asked curiously.

Stephanie nodded her head. "It was a sandwich that I found in one of the bags of a dumpster. The only thing that seemed to be wrong with it was that the bread was a little hard."

"Between finding the sandwich and having the wind blow a ten dollar bill in my lap, I was beginning to think it was my lucky day." She said sadly. "I guess I was wrong."

"I don't know how you can consider getting what would have been a fatal case of food poisoning, and getting robbed _lucky_, but I can tell you now that while you are here there are a few rules that you _will_ follow! You will _not_ eat trash! You will _not_ remain as filthy as were when Jazz brought you here! You _will_ bathe on a daily basis, _and_ you will maintain a _presentable_ appearance by not wearing rotting smelly filth riddled rags!" Ratchet berated angrily.

Stephanie started shaking as tears of anger and outrage formed in her eyes. She'd never been this embarrassed or humiliated in her life. It wasn't as if she _wanted_ to live the way she'd been doing, but it was that she hadn't had any other choice.

"Jazz, will you take me back to the alley now please." Stephanie asked in a tear-filled tone.

"Huh? What... wait, why do ya want ta leave? Ya don't even have a cane yet. I just told Wheeljack about it and he's gonna fix ya up a good one." Jazz asked in confusion.

"You... you said that I wouldn't have to do anything I didn't agree to. Well, I... I can't stay here and get yelled at when I don't deserve it. I can't… I won't! I don't _want_ to live like I do, but I don't have any other choice." She said as she started crying harder and got out of her chair.

Sarah immediately stood up and gently put her hands on the girl's shoulders. "Stephanie wait, please. Don't listen to Ratchet."

"_What_!" Ratchet roared.

"_Shut up Ratchet_!" Sarah hissed in a barely contained rage. "Just shut up, or else I'll have _you_ thrown in the brig so fast you won't even remember the trip! You've just done enough damage with your temper, so the best thing you can do is stay silent and keep your mouth _closed_!" She snarled at the medic.

The optics on both mechs shot wide in shocked disbelief. _No_ one had _ever_ dared to even speak to Ratchet in such a way, but to go as far as threatening to have him tossed in the brig as well was unheard of! The medic growled deep in his engine even as his dental structures ground together. He was the CMO, and _no one_ was going to dictate how he delivered instructions to a patient. He was about to respond when the human spoke up again.

"Just shut up Ratchet! I mean not one word or sound out of you, or you'll be in the brig for a solid month, _and_ I'll make sure that you can only _advise_ on the treatment of a patient from that cell! Do I make myself clear?" Sarah snapped as she shot a glare of pure death at the CMO.

Ratchet gaped at the woman in stark disbelief. In the four months that they'd been at Nellis Air Force Base, the woman had never once shown any type of anger, but _this_ was something he wouldn't have believed even if he'd been warned about it. He was not about to let the human get away with speaking to him that way.

"You can't have me put in the brig for delivering medical instructions to a patient." Ratchet retorted angrily.

"When your _temper_ is causing that patient to refuse treatment and therefore placing that patient's life in danger; you better believe that I can, and that I _will_! _Especially_ when that patient is just a _kid_!" Sarah snapped without hesitation.

Ratchet's right optic twitched even as his vents, fans, and auxiliary cooling systems cycled up to maximum to deal with the heat produced by his circuits. That was when he saw that the girl really _did_ want to leave, and that she had already extracted a promise from Jazz regarding that departure. Realizing that Sarah wasn't bluffing or joking in the slightest about tossing him in the brig, Ratchet held his silence, but he was _not_ happy about it. He didn't know exactly what had occurred in the foster home to make the girl so willing to live in such horrible conditions, but it was also obvious at the same time that she would readily do exactly that.

"Stephanie, please, just listen to me for a minute. Ratchet's a grump. He generally yells at almost everyone. He even yells at his Boss like that, so please don't take that personally. If you don't want him yelling at you, then I'll see that he doesn't do it, okay? But I can't let you go back to living on the streets when you don't even have a cane to help you get around. I'd like to help you, but I can't do that if you're not here. So, please, will you stay... for a while anyway?" Sarah said in as reasonable a tone as she could manage while being thoroughly irate with a certain medic.

Jazz sat in total silence as he watched and listened to what was happening. Never, in all the time he'd known the medic, had _anyone_ ever made him back down like that. He'd only known Sarah for a few days, and not once had he seen any kind of temper out of her until now. It was this particular situation which convinced the saboteur that she had a temper that was rarely, if ever displayed. She was the type who was normally calm and easy going, never revealed that she even _had_ a temper, until you got her wound up, but if you _did_, then you'd better be ready to vacate the planet, because _nothing_ could save you from her wrath.

Stephanie thought about the request carefully. Then she thought about the person who was asking her to stay. She had to admit that the woman had been very friendly and had even helped her too. Then there was Jazz. The robot... no _mech_ had promised to get her a new cane. He'd stopped the person from robbing her and she had even gotten the money back. Then he'd carried her here, even as dirty, filthy, and downright _smelly_ as she was while she was sick. Then she suddenly realized that since Jazz _was_ the car that had brought her here and that she'd literally been _inside_ him! He'd even told her how nice she looked, and not to worry about how dirty she'd been when they met, and then she knew that she couldn't leave on such short notice like this.

When Stephanie nodded her head, even though it was with very obvious reluctance, Sarah let out a breath that she didn't even realize she'd been holding. Whatever disability she might have didn't matter at this point; neither did the way in which she'd received her injuries. What did matter was that no child her age deserved to be living on the streets the way that this girl had been doing, and she was going to do her best to prevent that from happening again.

"I know that this... that being here will take some getting used to, but these mechs are really good people. I've been around Ratchet long enough to know that he just doesn't want you getting sick again. Okay so he said it the wrong way. He still means well, and he doesn't want you doing anything that would put your health at risk. I know you don't like living the way you were, and I'm sure that you'll stay as clean as you can while you stay with us, now won't you?" Sarah explained in a much calmer tone.

Stephanie nodded her head slowly. "I know that sometimes I deserve to get yelled at, and even spanked, but I'm not going to be yelled at anymore when I _don't_ do something to deserve it. He yelled at me earlier, and… and I'm glad he did, because I almost walked off a ledge… and I would've too. I was so glad to have a chance at a real shower that I wasn't even thinking about anything else. I deserved it then… but I don't now." She said in a melancholy tone.

"You're right, and he won't do it again." Sarah replied.

"Hey, Steph. I know this ain't tha best time an all, an this ain't what I had in mind when I gave ya my word, but I got ya somethin ta use until Wheeljack gets a good one made for ya. He's been a little busy this mornin settin somethin up for me, so it may be a week or two before he gets your new cane finished. I had ta explain what being blind is to him, cuz it's somethin that don't really happen ta us. Once he did understand the problem ya got, an why ya need a cane, he said he's got some ideas ta make one with some sensors in it." Jazz told her as he pulled a six-foot length of polished bamboo out of subspace.

"What do you mean sensors?" The girl quickly asked in confusion.

"He said somethin about making sure that you're tha only one that can use it, so I'm thinkin some kind of DNA sensor. He said he'd make sure that it wouldn't lock for anyone else; whatever that means." Jazz replied.

"If it won't lock straight, then no one else will want it or steal it!" Stephanie exclaimed in excitement.

"Oh, okay. Well, I know this ain't what I promised ya, but here it is anyway." Jazz said as he touched her right hand with one end of the pole.

Jazz felt truly horrible about giving the girl such a shoddy replacement, but it was all that he had been able to come up with on short notice, and he hoped that his other surprise would be much more welcome. He watched with more than a little apprehension as he handed it over.

Stephanie felt the touch on her hand and she began examining the object with her fingers to find out what it was. It only took her a few seconds to realize that it was bamboo. Taking it in her hand, she felt a familiar balance that told her it was a decent length. Stephanie's face brightened when she realized that she now had a replacement for her cane. It didn't matter that it might not be as durable as her old improvised version, this was something that would work, that she could use, and to her that was all that mattered.

Ratchet felt his spark sink, even as his circuits began to overheat once more. He could only imagine how the girl's standards had fallen in order to be glad to receive such an obviously makeshift replacement. The look of confusion on the girl's face wasn't helping to improve his mood any either.

"This is bamboo... isn't it? We're in a desert, where did you get bamboo out here?" Stephanie asked as she kept using her fingers to examine the pole.

Sarah looked from Stephanie, to the bamboo pole, and then up at Jazz. "That's a _good_ question. You didn't raid one of the botanical gardens did you?" She asked in an accusatory tone.

"Nah. I got it from Hound. He overheard me tellin Wheeljack what I needed, and he suggested this, sayin that if it gets broke, it can be easily replaced since this stuff grows a foot a day and he's got a greenhouse full of it." Jazz answered.

"So you're saying that if that one gets broken for some reason, that Hound has already agreed to let you have another piece to replace it?" Ratchet asked quickly.

"Yep. Look Ratch, I know it ain't the best, but it can work until Wheeljack builds her a good one right?" Jazz replied a little dejectedly.

"I don't see anything wrong with it. It won't fold up, but my old one didn't do that either, and I don't know _how_ long I had that one, so I'm used to it." Stephanie exclaimed brightly as she held the bamboo pole by one end and shook it so that the tip whipped back and forth whistling through the air as the bamboo pole flexed.

"Besides, this won't break very easy." Stephanie said as she stood up out of her chair and assumed a poor imitation of a Samurai style stance with the bamboo pole held in front of her waist. "Now, who wants some?" She added in a joking but happy tone.

Ratchet shuttered his optics and covered his face with his right hand. He simply could not believe the level of delight that the girl could take in such simple things. He was forced to take another look when Jazz spoke up.

"Yo! I'll take some o' what ya got!" Jazz stated loudly in a tone that belied the curiosity on his face.

Stephanie turned slightly towards the sound of Jazz's voice. "Okay, good! Now... where are you?" She challenged happily while turning her head in every direction _except_ the one where Jazz's voice was coming from.

Both Sarah and Jazz burst out laughing simultaneously, while Ratchet once again put his face in his palm, but this time he also let out a soft groan.

"Ya really like that thing don't ya?" Jazz asked with more than a little doubt.

"Sure! It may not be the same as my old one, but it's still a lot better than not having one at all. Last night... no… the night before last, I was filthy, _really_ stinky, sick, hungry, and no one to talk to. Now, I have three people to talk to, clean clothes, shoes that fit and won't give me blisters, hair that smells good because it's clean, and I haven't had that much food since my parents..." Stephanie trailed off because she couldn't bring herself to finish.

"I think what you're trying to say is 'thank you', and to that I say 'you're welcome'. I don't know how much you've had to eat lately, but that whole skin and bones thing you've got going on... is going to _go_! I'm an RN, so I can deal with the sight of that scar of yours, but the sight of your ribs sticking out through that scar is unbearable. I know it's not your fault, but the least you can do is let us try to put some meat on you." Sarah told her gently.

Putting her new cane in her left hand, Stephanie felt for the table with her right. When she found it, she leaned the cane against the table and got back in her chair. There were tears in her eyes as she turned towards Sarah's voice. "Thank you."

"Again, you're welcome. Now, don't worry about it. Just understand that not everyone is like those people from the foster home you were in. Now, how about we just chat, and enjoy our coffee?" Sarah said kindly.

"That sounds really good right now." Stephanie said as she tilted her head to her right and used her right hand to reach over and scratch her scalp just above her left ear.

"Wouldn't it be easier ta use your left hand for that?" Jazz asked in a mixture of surprise and confusion.

"She can't. The scar tissue isn't skin grafts so it doesn't have the flexibility of normal skin, which means that she probably has very little use of her left arm. _If_ she can use it at all." Sarah answered quickly.

"Is that true?" Ratchet demanded instantly.

"Yes. My scar doesn't let me bend my arm or move my shoulder much. I can use my hand to work my cane, open doors, hold stuff, and things like that, but not for much else. Bending over for things isn't easy either. If I don't do it just right, it either stretches my scar or tears it… and that _really_ hurts!" Stephanie answered plainly.

Scanning the girl's arm once more, Ratchet knew what he was looking for this time, and he discovered that the girl was telling the truth about her arm and shoulder. He knew that even human medicine, as primitive as it was, had techniques that could help restore the full use of that arm. It was more than enough to infuriate the medic. He was well aware that such callousness in regards to who could afford advanced treatments had been one of the root causes of the war, but not even at the worst point in Cybertronian history, would a sparkling be denied a procedure that would ensure proper function. He knew if it had been simply a cosmetic matter, that few Cybertronian medics would even consider performing the procedure without prior payment.

"I can still use my right hand for everything, and I guess I just got used to doing things that way." She told them.

Ratchet glared at the girl in irritation, and he was somewhat glad that she couldn't see him at that point since it wasn't actually her that he was angry at, but rather her situation. "You seem to be fairly adaptive with your skill at improvising." He admitted grudgingly.

"Well, it isn't like I have much choice. I have to use what I can find, or do without." Stephanie told him while nibbling on the hashed browns.

"If you're full, then why are ya still eatin?" Jazz asked her curiously.

"Because I'm not about to pass up good food, and I don't want to waste it either." Stephanie replied.

"Look. We'll be back for lunch, so you don't need to eat until you make yourself sick, okay." Sarah told her.

"Lunch?" Stephanie asked in wide-eyed disbelief. "I can have _lunch_ too?"

"Yes you can have lunch... and dinner as well." Sarah said with a laugh.

Stephanie shook her head slightly. The things that were being so freely given to her were things that she had learned to do without. They were things that she now considered to be the peak of luxury. She'd long ago learned to do without such things, and even though she had resigned herself to living without them, that didn't stop her from wishing for them. She sipped at her coffee, and wondered if this were all some strange sort of dream. She caught herself before she giggled aloud. Dream? After what she'd been given, and the meal she'd just eaten, it all seemed more like a fairy tale.

Jazz watched as the girl sipped at the hot beverage. A light seemed to dance in those sightless grey eyes, even as a small smile graced her mouth. There was a huge difference between the girl he'd seen in the alley, and the one sitting at the table in front of him. When he'd first seen her, there had probably been more dirt and filth than there was girl. For another thing, he hadn't even been able to tell that she was a girl until she spoke.

Now, however, it was a different story. Stephanie was clean. Her long brown hair hung down her back in thick waves and he could see what her face looked like. She was sipping on coffee after having eaten a healthy meal, and she wouldn't be purging this one. Jazz frowned as he remembered the results of that scan. The girl's abdominal muscles had been clenched painfully as she purged like she was going expel her intestines along with the contents of her stomach. Seeing an adult purge like that would have been difficult enough, but someone as young as she was? That had been _really_ tough to see.

Jazz didn't regret giving the girl his word about not turning her over to the human authorities, but he never would have believed that Stephanie would be so quick or so willing to go back to the life that she'd had on the streets. He had no idea how she'd been treated in the past, but however bad it had been, it was enough that she'd been willing to go back to the streets with no cane or any other means to determine her surroundings.

He couldn't help thinking back to the first encounter with her. From the first time she'd spoken, she'd shown that she wasn't the type to cry over much. If that were the case, she'd have broken down in tears after he'd broken her makeshift cane. Instead, she just asked him to tell her how much money she had, so she'd know if she could buy something for a replacement. After having used the internet to do a bit of research on blindness, Jazz knew that the nearly worthless pole had been a lifeline for the girl. Losing it would have taken away a very large portion of her independence, and yet she hadn't cried over that loss. He could understand what she meant by not wanting to be yelled at when she didn't deserve it, but that situation did make him wonder just how bad it had been in order to reduce her to tears and make her so ready to leave like that.

When the girl's eyes began to droop in spite of the coffee, Sarah knew that she needed to go back to sleep. While the salmonella infection itself had been cleared up, Sarah knew that Stephanie would still be weak, both from the toll that the near fatal case of food poisoning had taken on her as well as from malnourishment.

"Jazz, I think you should take her back to bed now. And no arguments out of you young lady!" Sarah finished firmly when she saw the girl about to protest. "You almost died two days ago, and you _would_ have died if Jazz hadn't brought you here. It'll take you a few days to regain your strength, and until then you are going to take things slow and easy. You can continue getting to know Jazz and Ratchet after you get some rest. They're not going anywhere, so they'll be here when you wake up."

"Here. C'mon. I'll give ya a lift." Jazz said as he got up and moved around the table.

Stephanie gulped down the last of her coffee and stood up. She used her right hand to grab her bamboo cane, before she transferred it to her left hand. "What do you want me to do?"

"Have a seat in my hand. Then I'll put ya on my arm like I did when I brought ya in here." Jazz told her as he touched the back of her legs with the fingers of his left hand.

Stephanie turned around and used her right hand to detect the size of the mech's hand as she climbed into it. Jazz lifted her up and transferred her to the crook of his right arm.

The saboteur held perfectly still while Stephanie got comfortable. She turned slightly sideways and put her legs out in front of her so they could rest on the forearm of the mech holding her. She put her right hand in her lap, and her left, which was still holding her cane was moved forward just enough to allow the cane to lay alongside her legs.

As much as she hated to admit it, Stephanie was tired. She stifled a yawn and laid her head against the right side of Jazz's front bumper. Before the saboteur could even ask if she was ready, Stephanie was fast asleep.

"Just go ahead and put her to bed, Jazz. She can find out about it when she wakes up. Besides, there's something I need to say that I don't think she needs to hear yet." Sarah said quietly.

Ratchet followed the resurrected mech down the corridors and waited while he went to place the sleeping girl in her bed.

"Put me down for a minute would you? I need to get those boots off of her." Sarah explained.

Ratchet put the woman down and watched in silence as she entered the room where Stephanie was being placed in bed.

Sarah walked in to find Jazz trying in vain to get a grip on the pull of the zipper to the girl's boots.

"I know it ain't good for tha circulation ta let her sleep in these." Jazz told her softly.

Sarah nodded her head and quickly unzipped the boots and pulled them off. Then she watched as Jazz placed the girl in bed and pulled the blankets up under her left arm that still had a solid grip on the bamboo pole. She reached out to remove it, but stopped when Jazz shook his head.

"I tried that already. She'll wake up if ya do get it. She's holdin on ta that thing like her life depended on it." Jazz said in a whisper as he led the woman out of the room.

Once the door shut behind them, Sarah turned to the two mechs and frowned. "I waited until she was asleep to tell you this because I don't want her anymore upset then she already is. She doesn't know what happened in the Mission City battle. Apparently someone left instructions at the hospital where she was in ICU, that she wasn't to be told anything. Whoever it was didn't even bother to give her the excuse of a terrorist attack. All she knows is that she lost her entire family at the same time she lost her sight and the use of her left arm." She told them heavily.

"Wait! Ya mean that her family was killed by tha same plasma blast that gave her that slaggin burn?" Jazz demanded in quiet anger.

"Yes, Jazz. That's exactly what I'm saying, and the only thing she knows about any of it, is what she lost that day." Sarah answered firmly.

"She's gonna slaggin hate us!" Jazz muttered sourly.

"What? Why would she do that?" Ratchet demanded curiously.

"Cause, Ratch. It don't matter if it was an Autobot or one o tha slaggin Cons that fired tha shot that killed her family! It was _our_ war! If that war hadn't come ta this world, her family would still be alive, and she never would have been on tha streets digging through tha slaggin garbage tryin ta find sumthin ta eat!" Jazz retorted angrily.

Ratchet cut off whatever he'd been about to say in protest, because as much as he hated to admit it, the saboteur was right.

"Jazz, it wasn't your fault..." Sarah began gently.

"Ya think she's gonna _care_? Look at her Sarah. _Look_ at her! She was happy to get a slaggin _stick_! You tell me how she's gonna feel when she finds out her family was killed, and she got crippled because of _us_!" Jazz retorted disgustedly.

"We can't change any of that, and we can't take any of it back. All we can do is try to move forward from here. She needs to be off the streets, and she needs friends. Like it or not Jazz, she seems to trust you. _You_ Jazz! Not me, or Ratchet… you. So right now, you're the best and maybe _only_ friend she has. Sure, she's scared, and she has a right to be. She's a thirteen-year-old little girl who's learned through experience that she can't trust adults. That means she may never trust me for anything, but somehow she feels that she can trust you." Sarah explained fervently.

The silver saboteur was silent as he thought about what the human woman had told him. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Stephanie _had_ placed her trust in him. Trust that he wouldn't turn her in to the proper authorities. Trust that he wouldn't sell her as a slave. The mere thought of that particular fate made the mech shudder in revulsion. Thirteen years old meant that Stephanie was still a sparkling even by human standards. It didn't occur or matter to the mech that she might not have had much of a choice in the matter, what _did_ matter to him was that a child, a mere _sparkling_ had placed her life, and her trust in his hands. Then he'd learned that there was a possibility that one of his friends could have killed her family. Even though Stephanie had no clue at this time, Jazz wondered how he would be ever be able to face her when _he_ knew the truth!

Jazz hung his head as he began to walk down the corridor. So Sarah had a point, but how could that point be compared to losing everything? Jazz didn't know. What he did know, was that somehow, he was going to have to tell Stephanie the truth. She deserved that much at least, even though he felt that she deserved a lot more.

She was still mostly asleep, but a dim awareness of her surroundings penetrated her mind. A soft moan of content left her as she burrowed a little deeper into the blankets that covered her. Wispy memories of the dream she'd had floated through her mind. Unlike most of her dreams, this one hadn't been another nightmare, but instead one where she'd been happy for some reason. Then she heard strange machine like noises that woke her up completely.

"Jazz? Ratchet? Is that you?" She asked as she sat up in the bed.

"Actually, my designation is Prowl." Said an unknown voice from well above her.

"Oh, okay. Sorry. My name's Stephanie." She replied quickly.

"I am not surprised at your familiarity with Ratchet since he is now involved in human medicine. But I am curious as to how you know Jazz, and why you do not recognize that I am neither of those mechs." Prowl told her.

"I met Jazz when he stopped someone from robbing me. Then I got sick and he brought me here. Ratchet said I would have died if he didn't." Stephanie answered.

"That would be a valid explanation as to why you know those two mechs, but it still does not tell me how you were unable to notice the obvious differences between myself and them." Prowl responded interestedly.

Stephanie remembered Ratchet telling her that mechs didn't really get blinded; just as she remembered how confused Jazz had been when she met him. That told her that Prowl wouldn't know anything about it either.

"I can't tell any difference unless you talk or I use my fingers to feel what you look like because my eyes don't work anymore, and they never will again. So... I'm blind." Stephanie said as she got out of the bed and used the bamboo pole in her left hand to make sure there wasn't another drop off in front of her while she approached the mech.

The sensor panels on Prowl's back that were mimicking the appearance of the doors to his alt mode rose as he observed the girl's actions. Dozens of possible reasons, alternatives, and explanations flashed through his processors as he watched her come closer before the actual reason occurred to him.

"You can't see, so you use your sense of touch to navigate your surroundings. The rod you're using serves to extend your sense of touch so that you can feel what is around you. Interesting adaptation." Prowl noted with a bit of surprise.

Stephanie frowned slightly as she considered that statement. "I never thought about it that way, but you're right. It was a good idea by someone."

"Yes, it was. Now can you explain why you are here, and not in the med bay." Prowl inquired.

"Where is here? You mean this _isn't_ the med bay?" Stephanie asked cautiously.

"No, it isn't. These are the private quarters that I share with Jazz, who happens to be my spark mate." Prowl answered.

"What's a spark mate, and why am I here?" She asked confused.

"Spark mates are like a married human couple, but much more than that as well. They can feel and sense the other half of the bond. There is no divorce, and no way to end the bond without one of the pair dying. If that happens, the other can die as well. That was nearly the case when Jazz was killed almost five years ago." Prowl started to explain.

"Jazz was killed?" Stephanie interrupted in surprise.

"Yes. He was killed while fighting the Decepticons in Mission City. In spite of his smaller size, he ended up fighting Megatron single-handedly. He must have known that there was no way that he could possibly survive such an encounter." Prowl explained.

"Why not, and what do you mean _small_? Jazz isn't small!" Stephanie said fervently.

Prowl's doorwings lifted slightly in their position on his back in surprise at the girl's almost fierce defense of Jazz. "Compared to Megatron, many of us are small. Megatron is more than four times the size of Jazz, and several times more powerful. There are very few Autobots who could challenge him in single combat and hope to survive. Neither Jazz nor I are in that category. A few days ago, Optimus used an artifact of great power to revive Jazz. Had he not done so, Jazz would still be lost to us."

Prowl saw the conflicting emotions that were flowing across the girl's face as she absorbed what he was telling her, and knew that she liked Jazz. That was no surprise to the tactician, since everyone seemed to like Jazz.

"Wait. You said that the other one could die too. Did Optimus fix Jazz because you were going to die too?" Stephanie asked suddenly.

"Yes, he did. Optimus is a wise and strong leader. He didn't do this for himself, even though he also missed Jazz. He did it for Jazz and myself." Prowl explained carefully.

"I'm sorry." Stephanie apologized quietly.

"For what?" Prowl asked uncertain as to the reason for the apology.

"You... you felt him die... didn't you?" Stephanie asked softly.

"I was too far away to sense all of the details, but I felt the pain of his death." Prowl answered solemnly.

"You said that they were fighting in Mission City. Why?" Stephanie asked curiously.

"Because Megatron was after an artifact called the All Spark. It would have enabled him to use its power to give life to Earth's machines and create an army for him. He would have used that army to end the human race because he hates all organic forms of life, and he wants to rule in uncontested power." Prowl told her. "So there were several Autobots there trying to stop Megatron from claiming the All Spark. They succeeded with help from your army, and sadly Jazz was not the only one to perish that day."

"I've never heard about any of this. When did it all happen?" Stephanie asked curiously.

"It was on May twenty ninth in two thousand and seven. The Autobots weren't given any choice in when or even where they encountered the Decepticons..." Prowl began when he broke of because Stephanie had gone ghost white as the blood drained from her face.

"They... they were… they were fighting downtown... weren't they?" Stephanie stammered as she struggled to find her voice.

"Yes, that is where a majority of the battle took place. You do not appear to be well Stephanie. Should I summon Ratchet to help you?" Prowl asked as the girl began to tremble and her eyes welled with tears.

Stephanie shook her head resolutely. She knew that she had part of the truth and she was now determined to finally get the answers that she'd craved for so long. "Did buildings get blown up in that fight?" She asked with tears in her eyes as she struggled not to break down in to sobs until she got her answers.

Prowl had only been on Earth for a few short months, but he was now familiar enough with human behavior to know that Stephanie was not acting normally. Her size indicated that she was young, and the blindness was ample evidence of previous damage. Concerned, Prowl scanned the girl for the first time. His doorwings sagged as he found the residual energy signature embedded in the massive burn that covered half of the girl's upper body. He didn't need to be the tactical prodigy that he was to understand where the girl's interrogations were leading.

"That is the same date that you were injured... isn't it?" Prowl asked quietly.

Stephanie nodded her head while still trembling. "And my family was killed."

Hundreds of various protocols, rules, regulations, and even laws flashed through the tactician's processors in an instant, and his doorwings rose stiffly as a grim expression crossed his metallic features. "Where were you at that time, Stephanie?"

"What difference does it make?" Stephanie cried.

"Given that you survived, and the rather limited area of your burn, it would suggest that you were caught by after damage of plasma burst hitting something else. I will admit that while Jazz was there and did participate in the battle, he could not have been responsible because he does not possess a weapon with that level of firepower. In fact, there are only two Autobots who were present at the battle who do possess that level of firepower. If it is determined that one of them were responsible for your injury and the deaths of your family, then they will need to be prosecuted." Prowl stated firmly.

At that moment, Stephanie became so confused that it was actually hard to think. She wasn't sure that she was being told what she _thought_ Prowl was telling her. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean Stephanie, is that self defense is _not_ justification for causing the deaths of bystanders. It should be possible to examine the memories of the bots in question to find out who fired that shot, then the guilty party can be charged with those deaths as well as your injuries. They can also be made to make restitution. Although I do not know how that would be possible since your family cannot be replaced, and unless Ratchet is able to repair your injuries, then there is that aspect to consider as well. Those factors will make it difficult to name a specific form of restitution. That however, is something that can be determined at a later date. For now, I need to know where you and your family were in order to try to find out who was responsible." Prowl explained softly.

Stephanie collapsed to her knees on the floor before she sat on her heels in stunned disbelief. What Prowl had just told her literally had her floored. All she'd wanted to know was _how_ her family had died. Now she not only knew how, but why as well. Now Prowl was telling her that he intended to find out _who_? Stephanie just couldn't believe it.

"You... you're really going to find out who killed them... aren't you?" She finally asked.

"I can't promise that I will be able to discover exactly who was responsible, but I will promise that I will do my best to find that answer. Part of my job among the Autobots is to enforce the rules that everyone has to follow. I could have assigned that task to someone else a long time ago, but I have come to know that I am very good at it. That is why I have continued to retain that responsibility. So you may rest assured that I will conduct a thorough investigation on this, but to do that, I need to know where you and your family were that day." Prowl explained.

Stephanie nodded her head in understanding. She struggled to get control of her crying, but it wasn't easy. "We were at home. It... it was my birthday. So we stayed home that day. We lived in apartment twenty one C in the Mission Plaza Building."

"Thank you. That information will be very helpful in my investigation. Now, may I ask why you have what appears to be a living area set up in the quarters that I share with Jazz?" Prowl asked curiously.

"Beats me. I know how to get back the bed over there, but that's it. Jazz carried me to the rec room to eat, and then I got tired and Ratchet and Mrs. Lennox said I needed to go to bed, and Jazz was carrying me again... and I think I fell asleep on him, because I don't remember taking my boots off or getting in bed." Stephanie said in confusion while thinking hard.

"Then, where were you before Jazz took you to the rec room?" Prowl asked.

"In the med bay. That was the first place I woke up. Ratchet said I've been there for two days, but I don't remember any of it." Stephanie stated honestly.

"Then it seems that Jazz will have to provide the answers later. In the meantime, you mentioned that you were sick, and I am aware that humans need sustenance after they sleep, which means that you most likely need something to eat. Do you have any objections with returning to the rec room?" Prowl inquired.

"No _Sir_! I had breakfast with Mrs. Lennox, Jazz, and Ratchet, so now I guess I'm ready for lunch. Just... um... do you know where my boots are?" Stephanie said getting excited.

"There is a set of human foot wear at one end of the bed you were sleeping in." Prowl answered.

"Okay, which end?" Stephanie asked as she turned around and started towards it.

"That would be the right hand side when facing it." Prowl answered quickly.

The noted strategist watched while the girl maneuvered around her bed and began using her right hand to put her footwear on. When she was finished, she held the bamboo rod in her left hand while straightening the bed to a degree. That was when Prowl noticed the girl hesitate. She put the rod on the bed, but then picked it up again. The girl's dilemma was one that Prowl recognized easily.

"I can place that in a sub space storage compartment where it will not be broken if you'd like. I can carry you quite easily without exerting any energy at all." Prowl suggested.

"Okay. I wondered if that's how you might do it, but I wasn't sure, and I'm not too sure about how to ask about being carried around like a baby." Stephanie said ruefully as she stepped away from her bed and handed the cane to Prowl.

"That should not pose much of a problem. While there are some mechs on base who are anti social, and do not wish to be touched by humans, most are considerate enough that they will offer. So, you most likely won't need to ask." Prowl told her as he stepped forward and extended his hand near the floor.

"Okay. So... what am I supposed to do now?" Stephanie asked uncertainly.

"My hand is a few feet in front of you at waist level. You may sit there while we head to the rec room." Prowl answered.


	4. Chapter 4

The Ties That Bind 4

As he made his way to the rec room, Prowl considered what he'd learned about both the disability of the girl sitting in his right hand, and the girl herself. He'd easily noticed the differences in the way in which the girl moved without her cane versus the hesitancy and caution when she didn't have it. He thought that her use of the cane was an excellent adaptation, and silently applauded her for it. He was almost certain that a bot with an unrepairable condition like that might choose to be offlined rather than face the difficulties that everyday life would present, but this human had apparently chosen to meet that challenge head on. To him, it indicated a type of mental strength that he could easily respect.

Prowl knew almost nothing about Stephanie, except that she had been crippled, her family killed in the crossfire of a battle amongst Cybertronians, and that she'd been ill when Jazz had brought her to the base. It was at once obvious to Prowl that Jazz had been responsible for setting up the necessities for the girl to share their quarters. He wasn't certain of the saboteur's motives, but he _was_ sure that Jazz intended to help the girl in some way.

Although he held no immediate objections to the girl's presence that could be considered valid at that time, he still would have preferred to be asked. If Stephanie were to become a somewhat permanent addition to their quarters, then Prowl would have to ensure that certain measures were taken for her safety. The only real problem that would have to be taken into account was the fact that Jazz had already made the arrangements, and moved the girl in. Prowl knew that any objection he voiced now, would be instantly seen as a rejection of Stephanie, and would most likely cause further problems to his already damaged relationship with Jazz.

Prowl knew that the normally easygoing mech felt truly horrible about what Prowl had experienced upon his death. That guilt only added fuel to the melancholy fire that Jazz was currently going through. Prowl knew that Jazz didn't regret what he'd done in that final fight, but he also knew that Jazz was now feeling horrendous levels of guilt for being brought back when so many other deserving bots hadn't been. The horrendous depths of the pain that filled the spark of the notoriously happy mech was something that Prowl alone truly knew.

Suddenly, Prowl's logic processors hitched and nearly stopped functioning for a moment as a _very_ unwelcome thought occurred to him. Stephanie was a surviving victim of the very same battle in which Jazz had been killed. Did Jazz want to help the girl in an effort to assuage the guilt that he was feeling? It was a likely scenario, and one that had a high probability of being accurate. Certain that he now understood the reasoning behind Stephanie's presence in their quarters, Prowl decided to let the matter rest for the most part, except that he did intend to have Jazz _ask_ before any more such decisions were made.

Seeing that the rec room was currently empty, Prowl claimed the table nearest to the entrance. Even though he'd finally taken Ratchet's advice and took the day off, he still wanted to be readily available in case of an emergency. The tactician sat down at the table and placed his right hand on the table just on the other side of the human sized furniture so Stephanie could sit facing him.

"My hand is directly on the table. If you'll turn to your left when you stand on the table, you'll find that the table and chairs in your size are located three feet in front of you." Prowl instructed her.

Stephanie scooted forward until she felt the edge of the mech's hand. Getting to her feet, she put her right hand in front of her as she followed the directions. She easily found both the chair and the table right where Prowl had told her it would be. As she sat down, she couldn't help but wonder why the mechs were so nice and helpful to her. First Jazz, then Ratchet, and now Prowl; all them had given her help of some kind. To her, it didn't matter that most of the assistance was simply directions; it was still more help than she'd received from anyone except Old Miss Connors or her therapist since she'd left the hospital.

"How do I find out what's on the menu?" She asked curiously.

Prowl's doorwings stiffened slightly as he realized that the girl was unable to read the menu displayed on the wall. That was when he understood that there would be a number of things that she would require assistance with. He wondered if Jazz had any realistic idea of what exactly he had gotten the two of them into.

"Since there are quite a number of items on the menu, perhaps I should give you the categories first, so that we can eliminate those items that you do not want." Prowl finally suggested.

"Okay, that sounds like a good idea." Stephanie answered politely.

"There are a number of plate dinners, sandwich meals, and a few soups. Which category appeals to you?"

"Soups! My Mommy always said that soup is what you need when you're sick." Stephanie exclaimed eagerly.

"I seem to recall having heard something to that effect myself. There are three soups available. Beef vegetable, and chicken noodle with vegetables are served daily, and the soup of the day is chili." Prowl responded.

"Chicken noodle! That's what Mommy always gave us! I'd like a great big bowl of that with lots of crackers, a huge glass of milk and a cup of coffee, please." Stephanie said happily.

A stern looking frown crossed Prowl's face as he looked down at the girl seated at the miniature table in front of him. "I may be mistaken, but I would think that coffee is a beverage which is normally consumed by adults. I believe you are somewhat young to be drinking such."

"But... but Ratchet said I could. He said I could have two cups and that's it. I only had one with my breakfast, so that means I can have a second cup now, right?" Stephanie reasoned hopefully.

Prowl considered contacting Ratchet for confirmation of the girl's orders, but then decided otherwise. For one thing, she had to know that such a fact would be far too easily confirmed or denied, and considering that she had quoted the medic directly made for one more reason to believe her. Another reason that he didn't immediately contact the CMO was that he had given his word to Optimus to take a day off and have absolutely nothing to do with responsibility except in case of emergency. This obviously didn't constitute any type of emergency, so Prowl let the matter rest.

"I suppose that will be acceptable. However, should Ratchet state that he instructed otherwise, you will not be allowed any more coffee until such time as you are of legal age. Is that agreeable?" Prowl countered in an attempt to verify the story.

Stephanie nodded her head quickly. "Mrs. Lennox and Jazz even heard him say it. If I can only have two cups a day, then I want one with breakfast and the other with lunch."

"Very well." Prowl acquiesced as he placed the order for her food along with his own request of a container of mid grade energon, and a few sticks of mineral ore.

While waiting for their orders to be brought out, Prowl decided to spend the time getting to know more about this girl that Jazz had apparently decided to make their new room mate.

"Tell me about yourself, Stephanie. Where were you living before Jazz brought you here, and why shouldn't you be there now?" Prowl asked her.

Stephanie lowered her head in dejection. She knew that the way she'd been living was nothing to brag about, but at the same time, she was stubbornly proud of the fact that she had accomplished as much as she had.

"I've been living on my own. I ran away from the foster home because they didn't want me there, and made jokes about ways they could get me hurt. So I've been hiding and living in the sewers for over four years now. Jazz promised me that he wouldn't tell on me and send me back to the foster home." Stephanie said uncertain as to how much she could say without getting into trouble.

"I'm not certain that Jazz should have made such a promise to you. There are a large number of laws regarding the care and welfare of one as young as you are. Can you tell me _why_ he would have made such a promise?" Prowl asked curiously.

"I didn't know who he was. I didn't even know _what_ he was, so I didn't know if I could trust him or not. I had this weird feeling that I _could_ trust him for some reason, but I'm still not sure where it came from. I just know that if he hadn't made me that promise, I never would have gotten into that car." Stephanie answered.

Prowl's doorwings rose slightly as he considered the girl's response. "Didn't you state that Ratchet said you would have died if Jazz hadn't brought you here?"

Stephanie nodded her head. "Even after I got puking sick, I still didn't know for sure if he was really going to help me or if he was going to sell me to a drug dealer. So I didn't know for sure if I could trust him. I mean something told me that I could, but I didn't really know for sure."

"You were wise to heed whatever that feeling was, Stephanie. Jazz rarely gives his word on things, but he never does so unless he truly means it. I cannot condone the promise that was made to you though. The law states that you are not allowed to live on your own or make decisions regarding your welfare until you are eighteen years of age. That law was written for the protection of yourself and others like you. What are doing?" Prowl asked when Stephanie got out of her chair and began backing away from it.

"I'm... I'm not going back there. I'll run away again. The others will just try to kill me, or get me hurt even worse than I already am, so if I live long enough, I'll just leave. I don't want to be killed or end up in a wheel chair and blind too!" Stephanie exclaimed bitterly as she shook her head while backing away from the table.

"Stephanie, I need you to sit back down. First of all, Ratchet obviously approves of your presence here. I know for a fact that when it comes to someone of your age that he would have been among the first to notify the proper authorities. Given the amount of time that you have been on base, Ratchet would have had ample opportunity to notify those authorities. If he hasn't done so, then there is apparently a valid reason for that. Another factor that must be considered is your obviously genuine fear in returning to the foster care system from which you have already fled. Both your fear and your comments have made it clear that the environment was not only unsuitable, but unhealthy as well. Therefore, I too will hold my silence in this case until I have been given a valid reason not to." Prowl lectured.

"You're not going to send me back?" Stephanie asked a little confused.

"Not at this time, no. First, there is your health to consider. Second, you are the sole survivor of a heinous crime, and thus the only witness. Third, the nature of your injuries are such that human physicians will not be adequately able to deal with them, and because they were caused by Cybertronian weapons, it means that we need to be held accountable for reparations in dealing with those injuries. Therefore, I believe that it would be best for you to remain here for the time being." Prowl answered.

"So... so I can stay?" Stephanie asked uncertainly. "You... you won't turn me in?"

"For now, no. Not unless circumstances warrant that particular action. Since it is apparent that you are quite willing to flee any environment that you deem unsuitable, and that you will receive proper care and supervision while you are here, it would seem that this is the best available location for you at this time." Prowl stated calmly.

"Besides, you seem to find this base preferable to your previous environment." Prowl added as an after thought.

"Well, I didn't like it when Ratchet yelled at me when I didn't deserve it, but he let me take a good hot shower and even loaned me a scrub brush. Plus, I get plenty to eat here, so I guess it is better so far." Stephanie said honestly. "At least no one makes jokes about tripping me. Mrs. Lennox said that Ratchet burned my clothes, but he gave me these instead, so no one's stealing what little I have either."

"On Cybertron, the sewers are used to dispose of waste material. It has been my understanding that your sewers are used for the same purpose here. Is that not the case?" Prowl asked interestedly.

"Yeah... I mean. Yes Sir. The sewers are filled with poo-doo, and they stink. I'm surprised that Jazz let me in the car... His car... Him? How does that work?" Stephanie finally asked in confusion.

Prowl very nearly smiled at the question since it wasn't one he'd encountered very often. "The car was Jazz's alt mode, and he _is_ that car. Just as all of us can, he is able to transform from one to the other. Being able to look like one of the cars from this world allows us to blend in and move about unnoticed." He explained.

"Okay, that makes sense. Anyway, I'm surprised that Jazz let me in him as bad as I stunk, because I've been living in the sewers, and usually eating out of the dumpsters. Sometimes there would be some vegetables or fruit left in the bins behind a grocery store, but I was usually too late to get those. I hardly ever got to take a bath though, and I think that's why Ratchet burned the clothes I was wearing." Stephanie said ruefully.

"That does not sound like an enjoyable way of living, Stephanie. Why would you choose to live like that, when there are obviously much better places?" Prowl asked as his door wings rose in indignation.

"If you mean places like that foster home, forget it! They stole almost everything I had, and that wasn't much either! Then they made jokes about how they could trip me or slide something at my feet while I was at the top of the stairs. Even when I told on them, the foster parents didn't want to hear about it unless one of them actually did something. I knew if I waited that long it would be too late. So, I left. I know all about places that are better. I had a home. I had a Mommy and Daddy, and a little sister. I had my own bed, and my own toys. I got new clothes when I needed them, and I don't have any of that anymore. The... the only thing I have left is my life, and I'm not going to stay someplace where they hate me, don't want me there, and just want to have fun by getting me hurt or killed." Stephanie said sadly.

"I can understand you not wanting to endure such an environment Stephanie. I believe that you will find that you will not be treated in such a callus fashion while you are here." Prowl told her.

"I hope not. I don't like living the way I do, but I don't want to be around people who hate me either." Stephanie said honestly.

"There will be those who dislike you anyplace you go, Stephanie. This base for example. There are bots here that will most certainly not like you. It won't be because of your injuries, or because of who you are. They will not like you simply because they do not make friends easily. That is how they are, and you will need to learn to accept that. It is a part of life that not everyone will like you." Prowl informed her.

"I can handle that. I just don't want to be someplace where _everyone_ hates me." Stephanie clarified.

"_That_ is a sentiment that I can easily understand. There are actually very few bots among the Autobots who would call me their friend, most do not like me, nor do they appreciate me being here. It is a condition that I am familiar with, and one that I accept." Prowl told her factually.

That caught Stephanie's attention instantly. "Why don't you have many friends?" She asked curiously.

Prowl studied the young girl for several minutes as he considered her question. He knew that his processor configuration was radically different from most other mechs, and that he usually kept his emotion processors shut down because of the havoc his emotions caused him. That was why he only activated his emotion processors in private, so that he wouldn't be embarrassed by overwhelming emotional breakdowns in public. It was not information that he was willing to share with others, because it was a private matter. Although Jazz knew of his processor condition, Prowl preferred that no one else learn of it.

"Most bots do not like me because they believe me to be cold and emotionless." Prowl told her.

Stephanie didn't know what to say to that since she knew that she could hear the feelings in Prowl's voice. Her thoughts on the subject were brought to an abrupt halt by the arrival of Prowl's order of a container of energon, and six bars of ore for him along with the food for her.

"The sustenance you requested has arrived. Are you certain that it will be sufficient for your needs?" Prowl asked curiously when he saw that there was only two types of food in the order.

"Sure! I'm going to enjoy this." Stephanie said excitedly as she picked up a few of the crackers and began crushing them in her right hand before dropping them in her soup.

Prowl watched this process with interest, since it was something he hadn't seen before. Once all of the wafer material had been crushed and added to the soup, the girl wiped her hand on her napkin. Then she used her spoon to mix the wafers in thoroughly. The expression of anticipation instantly changed to one of near blissful delight as the girl took her first bite of the soup. The tactician likened the situation to that of a bot trying high grade for the first time, because the expressions displayed in both cases were far more similar than most would tend to believe.

"It would appear that your food is acceptable." Prowl commented as he sampled one of the bars of mineral ore.

"It's better than that!" Stephanie said after swallowing her first bite. "This is _good_!" She continued. She didn't mention or even want to think about when or where she'd last had a similar meal, because it would have brought up memories that were too painful, and would have started her crying again.

"It is well that you are enjoying it then." Prowl commented as he continued to relax.

The tactician knew that there were numerous reports waiting to be reviewed, and some that required a thorough after action analysis, but he had given Optimus his word, that he would in fact take the full day off. Upon thinking about it, Prowl decided that it was most likely fortunate that he'd done so. After all, finding out about having Stephanie as a new roommate after a full shift of tedious reports, and a set of prankster twins would have been far more than his processors could properly handle.

Prowl had been considering the girl with his sub-processors when his logic programs identified an incongruity. Stephanie had agreed that the concept of using a cane to determine immediate surroundings had been a good idea by someone. That meant that not only was the concept not originally hers, but that she also didn't know who had originally conceived the idea. So why was she not using a specifically manufactured version, instead of something that was obviously improvised? The only way that he could obtain that answer would be to ask.

"May I inquire as to why you are using an obviously improvised rod to navigate your surroundings? I would think that there would be a more durable manufactured version available, or is that not correct?" Prowl asked after deciding that there was really no polite way to phrase such questions.

"At first, I did have a regular cane, but someone stole it after I ran away from the foster home. Then Old Miss Connors found me, and sort of took me in for a while. She got me an old fishing rod that couldn't be used anymore because the loops were broke off and the tip was a little split. It wasn't any good for fishing anymore, but it worked great for how I used it. I was using that for a long time, but it got broke when Jazz accidentally stopped on it when he was stopping someone from robbing me. I know he didn't mean to break it, and he got me the one you have to replace it. He says that he has a friend making a better one with some sort of sensor in it. He told me some sort of strange name, but I don't remember it." Stephanie answered in between bites of her soup.

"Since you are able to recall Ratchet's designation without difficulty, I would assume that the individual in question would be Wheeljack, since he _is_ our resident inventor, and the only other mech who would be involved in such an endeavor." Prowl stated.

"That's it! Wheeljack! That's the name Jazz told me." Stephanie exclaimed.

"I am curious as to why he would ask Wheeljack to create such a device, but given that Jazz has explained that your replacement would include some manner of sensors, that alone explains it. I am curious though as to how you regard the one you currently have." Prowl replied.

Stephanie frowned as she paused in her eating. She couldn't tell if Prowl was asking about her new cane to get Jazz in trouble or not. "It's just as good as my old one, and it's not cracked or broke, so that makes it even better. Besides, Jazz could have left after he stopped that guy from robbing me, but he didn't. He wanted to make sure I was okay, and when I got sick, he brought me here. Jazz saved me from getting robbed, saved my life, got me here so I can have clean clothes, have a shower, and even got me a new cane! He didn't have to do any of that, but he did! He hasn't done anything wrong!" Stephanie protested with a fierce vehemence.

Prowl's door wings rose a bit, even as his optics narrowed slightly beneath his visor. Obviously, the girl had mistaken the intent behind his question, and had taken it as a slight against Jazz. He was more than a little surprised that she would be staunchly defiant in her defense of the mech. He was more than a little curious as to why that would be, but then he realized that she had already provided an explanation.

A life debt was considered a very serious matter among Cybertronians. It was something that was rife with both obligations, and responsibilities. Prowl did know that while most humans didn't tend to view, or take a life debt as seriously as a typical Cybertronian would, there were those who would try to repay that debt in some fashion, and Prowl was beginning to think that Stephanie was going to be one of them.

"I believe you misunderstand me, Stephanie. I was not maligning Jazz in any way, but was simply asking if there were something else available that might better serve your purpose." Prowl clarified.

"Oh... Sorry. Um... well, the only difference between the one Jazz gave me, and the first one I had, is that the first one was white with a red tip so people would know that it's being used by a blind person, and it would fold up. Other than that, the one Jazz gave me is just as good, and it's just as good as the one that got broke, except this one's new, and isn't cracked or anything." Stephanie answered quietly.

As she resumed eating, she thought about Jazz. She was sure that, giant robot from another world or not, Jazz was still a good person. If he weren't, then he wouldn't have bothered to help her. For more than four years, Stephanie had had it proven to her that most people could not be trusted, but then, in just a short time, by her reckoning, Jazz had shown her otherwise. Not only had he come to her rescue, but he'd also given his word, and he'd kept it. That more than anything meant a lot to her. Suddenly Stephanie stiffened as her eyes widened in surprise when she realized that Jazz hadn't just helped her out, and gotten her a replacement cane, but that he'd also moved her into his own home!

It was such a stunning revelation that she would have fallen down had she not already been sitting. She didn't know why Jazz would do such a thing since he didn't know any more about her, than she really knew him. Probably less she supposed, since Prowl had told her a little about him, but that was beside the point. Jazz couldn't be doing this just to be done with it, but what she didn't know was, why. Stephanie had just started eating again, when a second thought struck her. Prowl lived there too, he'd even told her as much!

"Prowl... are you mad at Jazz?" Stephanie asked hesitantly.

Prowl looked at the girl curiously. "No. Why would I be angry at him?"

"Because he had to be the one who moved me into your home... so I thought you might be mad at him for that. I can live somewhere else if I need to." Stephanie said in a rush.

"That will not be necessary. I have been spark mated to Jazz for several million of your years, and in that time, I have learned that when Jazz does something like this, he invariably has a valid explanation for his actions. Now, let me ask you something. If you were to leave now, where exactly would you go to live?" Prowl replied.

"I... I'd go back to the sewers. I have a safe place to sleep there, and no one can find me either." She answered.

"Your answer merely provides an additional reason for you to live with Jazz and I. The sewers are _not_ a suitable environment, nor would proper supervision be possible. That does not take into account any measure of safety, security, or proper nutrition, which is necessary for one as young as you are. Therefore, it is immediately obvious to me that Jazz provided living quarters for you in a place where he could ensure those things. Additionally, whether you are aware of it or not, your injury makes it obvious that you are the victim of a Cybertronian crime in which the culprit has yet to be determined, which is merely another reason that Jazz would seek to provide for your welfare." Prowl explained.

"So... you want me to stay too?" Stephanie asked referring to the last statement.

"Yes, I do. I will admit to having some personal motives for this in addition to those I've already stated, but as I said, they are personal, and I do not wish to reveal them at this time." Prowl told her candidly.

Stephanie thought about what Prowl had just told her and frowned in confusion. "How does my injury make it obvious that I'm a victim of a Cyber… tronian crime?" She asked hesitating slightly over the name of the robotic race.

"There is a minute but clear and obvious energy signature that remains in the tissue of the scar that covers a large portion of your body. That energy signature is a result of weapons technology that cannot be duplicated by human technological levels at this time, and is not likely to be developed for several centuries without our influence. Therefore, the only possible cause of your injury is that of a Cybertronian weapon." Prowl answered.

"Do Jazz and Ratchet know about it?"

"I would have to say that the answer to that is yes, definitively. For one thing, Ratchet's scanners are far more sensitive than mine are, and he would have scanned you several times while treating your illness as part of your diagnosis and treatment. Jazz would also have discovered that signature the moment he scanned you. We tend to utilize our scanners in much the same way that a human like yourself would pick something up to examine it more closely. Our scanners are like an additional set of eyes that provide more detailed information about any given object. Jazz could have scanned you for any number of reasons, and would have scanned you at least once. That single scan would have shown him or any other Cybertronian the same energy signature that I discovered when I scanned you for the first time." Prowl elaborated.

"So... I might as well be wearing some kind of sign or something huh?" Stephanie asked morosely.

"Only insofar as a Cybertronian is concerned, Stephanie. Humans do not have the technological ability to detect that energy signature, and therefore will not know of it, unless they are told of its existence." Prowl informed her.

"Oh." Stephanie answered being unable to think of any other questions at that moment, she decided to finish eating.

Having finished her soup and the glass of milk, Stephanie was sipping her coffee and savoring it, which was something she hadn't often been able to do while living on the streets. Prowl had ordered a second container of energon, and was slowly consuming that while his company enjoyed her own beverage.

Stephanie turned her head towards the sounds of loud thumps as something neared the doorway to the rec room. Then she winced as the sound of shrieking metal was clearly heard.

"Steph! There ya are! I been lookin all over for ya!" Jazz called out as he nearly slid past the doorway in his rush to find the girl.

"Jazz! Hi. I've been right here; eating lunch, and now I'm just drinking some coffee." Stephanie replied a little confused, but happy nonetheless.

"When ya weren't in bed I thought ya might have wandered off and maybe gotten lost or somethin. Ratchet's even been lookin for ya. How'd ya get here?" Jazz asked immediately not paying any attention to anything else.

"Well, I don't know how to get back where I was, but I'm right here with Prowl." Stephanie answered.

That was when the saboteur noticed the presence of the black and white tactician and froze. "Oh... Hey ya Prowler babe! How ya doin? Uh... I'd introduce ya to my new friend here, but I uh… guess you two already met." Jazz asked in surprise.

Prowl's doorwings rose and he almost smiled at this particular image. He knew that he would laugh heartily over it later, but for now, he merely took in the fact that the normally imperturbable saboteur was now not only nearly speechless, but also struggling to think of an explanation quickly.

"Yes. Stephanie and I have enjoyed refueling together, as well as a rather pleasant conversation." Prowl stated simply.

"So, uh... Where'd you find her anyway?" Jazz asked not entirely certain he wanted to hear the answer.

"I 'found' her as you put it, exactly where you left her; sleeping soundly in her bed. My entrance caused her to awaken. She queried as to whether I was you or Ratchet. I then introduced myself, and queried her as to why she had been unable to determine the rather obvious differences between our three frames. That was when she informed me of her unusual injury. It was at that point that we began our conversation. Although it has not been for lack of effort on her part, she has been unable to explain her presence in our quarters. I am quite certain that you should be able to adequately elaborate on that for me." Prowl explained while not hesitating to take advantage of the situation to gain the upper hand.

Jazz felt the energon in his lines run cold. He couldn't tell from Prowl's vocal patterns if the mech was objecting to the girl's presence or not, and he'd fully intended to explain everything prior to the end of Prowl's shift. Now he realized that he was too late on that score, because Prowl had already found the girl in their quarters.

"Look, Prowler. I was gonna tell ya about this, but it just sorta happened okay? I planned on tellin ya today in fact, but things just kinda went a little glitchy." Jazz said quickly.

"You should have approached me about this prior to moving her in." Prowl stated readily.

Stephanie heard the whole conversation, and if Prowl hadn't told her that he wanted her to stay with them, and that he wasn't angry at Jazz, she would have sworn that a fight was about to start.

"Yeah, you're right Prowl. I just... I don't know... but I couldn't just leave her in the med bay." Jazz replied.

"In that you are correct. The med bay is not a suitable environment for her. In the meantime however, I will require a copy of your memories from the battle in Mission City." Prowl responded.

"Huh? Why do ya need those?" Jazz demanded in surprise.

"I need to determine exactly which bot was responsible for causing the injuries that Stephanie has been forced to endure. Your data files will compose a part of my investigation into the matter." Prowl stated.

Once again, Jazz froze in shock. He looked down at the table where the subject of the conversation was obviously listening to every word while sipping at her coffee. It was then that Jazz realized that she somehow knew that his race had been responsible for crippling her and killing her family. It was not a welcome realization.

"Steph... I... I'm... I'm sorry... I didn't know how ta tell ya about this, but..." Jazz began not knowing what to say, or even how to say it.

"You have nothing to apologize for Jazz. I have already explained the situation to her." Prowl stated clearly.

"Ya don't know what happened!" Jazz began angrily.

"Yes he does. He knows... He told me what happened, how some Megatron person was going to try to kill everyone, and how you got killed trying to stop him. He even knows how my family got killed, and I got hurt. He even said he's gonna try to find out who did it too." Stephanie interrupted quickly.

"Steph... Maybe ya don't blame me for your family gettin killed, but how do ya know ya shouldn't? If we hadn't brought the war here..."

"Then it is very likely that a far more disastrous result would have occurred, and there would have been even _more_ innocent victims. Megatron was already here, as was the Allspark. Regardless of what precautions were being taken, you know as well as I that Megatron would have recovered eventually. If that had happened without an opposing Autobot presence, the entire human population of this planet would likely have been eliminated or enslaved, and Megatron would have created an assault force that would have then destroyed the Autobots as well. While it is for the best that the battle took place when it did, it would have been preferable had it not involved innocent lives. The past can not be changed, nor can Stephanie's family be returned to her..." Prowl said firmly.

"Are ya honestly tryin ta tell me that she don't have a slaggin _good_ reason ta blame us for what's happened to her?" Jazz demanded angrily as he cut the tactician off before anything more could be said.

"No, Jazz, I am not. The fact is that Stephanie _does_ have sufficient cause to blame us for her injuries, and the deaths of her family, because we _are_ responsible!" Prowl stated in a clear and firm tone.

"_All_ of Cybertron is to blame for the damage to this world and the humans who inhabit it. Had we governed ourselves more judiciously, with more attention to equality, fairness, and justice; then this war might never have occurred. I will grant you that the actions of The Fallen would still have taken place, and that the Harvester would still have been located on this world, but its people, the humans, would _not_ have been placed in further jeopardy. There are many things that could have been prevented if our world had been governed by the very same principles that we fight for, the same principles I might add, that you _died_ for! The very greed, corruption, and lust for personal power that Megatron was guilty of, is exactly what has led to the destruction of our world, and quite possibly the extinction of our race. All we can do now, is to try to live by the principles that we believe in, and attempt to rectify the damage that we, as a _race_ have already caused, while preventing any similar damage from happening in the future. I am aware that there are those who now wonder what the point of this war is, now that our world is no longer inhabitable. My response is that we must continue our struggle to ensure that there will be no more innocent victims like Stephanie." Prowl stated as he continued and told Jazz in no uncertain terms.

Stephanie had been listening to every word, and she was finding it really difficult to believe what she was hearing. Blame Jazz? How could she blame Jazz when Prowl had even said that he didn't have a strong enough weapon to do it? She knew that she'd gotten sick right after meeting Jazz, and that Ratchet had said that Jazz had even saved her life by bringing her here, so why should she blame Jazz?

"Why should I blame Jazz when he tried to help?" Stephanie protested plaintively.

"Steph, I didn't..."

"Yes, Jazz, you did. So did many others who were there. You were only one of many, and you were not the only soldier who died that day. There were many human soldiers who also died as a result of the Decepticon assault for the All Spark. You can not be held any more responsible for those deaths than Stephanie can. The fact that you tried to stop what was happening can _not_ be disputed Jazz. Because you were _killed_ for your effort! Stephanie realizes that. I've also informed her that the weapon that caused her injuries was far more powerful than the one you have." Prowl stated in a stern tone.

"You _can't_ know that, Prowl!" Jazz retorted hotly.

"Look Prowler, it don't even matter if Megatron was tha one that did it. Steph lost her family cause of _us! _Because of _our_ war! That ain't something we can make right, because there ain't nothing that can give them back to her! She's a sparklin, and she didn't deserve ta be a part o that!" Jazz protested again.

"Your rather passionate argument is actually logical, Jazz. And you are correct. Stephanie did _not_ deserve to be caught up in the repercussions of Cybertron's war, and in that light; _all_ of us are responsible for her loss and her injuries..." Prowl began.

"That's not fair!" Stephanie interrupted strongly. "That's like... That's like blaming me because some kid in Mexico doesn't have any shoes or something... I don't know, but it's not fair! If he didn't do it, then Jazz shouldn't get blamed for it!"

"I believe that you misunderstand, Stephanie. I am not 'blaming' Jazz. In reality, I am not certain _where_ the final blame should rest. But the fact remains, that your world, and therefore you, were involved, and affected when you shouldn't have been. We can not alter the past, so we must try to improve the future. Providing you with a location to live that you are willing to consider to be safe and to stay in, is a respectable beginning." Prowl replied easily.

"So... what? Are ya sayin that Steph can stay in our quarters with us?" Jazz asked in complete confusion.

"That is exactly what I am saying. Stephanie does not currently have an adult to supervise her activities, or provide a properly structured environment. It is obvious that the two of you have established a form of either trust or friendship; therefore, you are currently the most suitable mech available. After all, it is essential for a sparkling's development that there be no animosity or hostility between the sparkling, and the potential caretaker. Had such existed, then you would obviously _not_ have chosen to locate her in our quarters, but instead, would have left her in the med bay under Ratchet's care." Prowl reasoned easily.

"Um... I woulda thought ya wouldn't be too happy about it..." Jazz mumbled in confusion.

"Not only do I have no objections to her presence, I must also add some insistence that she remain with us. Not only do I need to find out which bot is responsible for her current situation, but I also feel that Stephanie requires an environment where she can be properly supervised, and supplied with the correct levels of nutrition that she will need at her age. There is also the fact that she will most likely require further care from Ratchet. In addition, I have also found her to be quite pleasant to hold a conversation with. Besides, you seem to have taken a liking to her as well. I believe that those five reasons should be sufficient to convince you that I am not merely accepting an intolerable situation, and that I actually think that her presence would be beneficial to all of three of us. Therefore, I see no reason to object to Stephanie's presence. With the sole exception of the waste removal facility that was installed for her, the necessary living quarters that have been established make excellent use of an area that we do not tend to utilize. I believe that it was an excellent idea to place her bed and dresser beneath our berth. Stephanie is young, but polite nonetheless, and in spite of having only recently learned of our existence, she appears to have adjusted to that fact very well. She is also in need of proper supervision, which the two of us working together, should be able to adequately provide." Prowl replied calmly.

"However, it would be appreciated if you could at _least_ consult with me on such important decisions in the future." Prowl added with a quirked brow ridge.

Stephanie didn't say anything, because she felt that this was something between Jazz and Prowl.

"Ya might be right on that Prowler, but there was no way that I could leave her in the medbay." Jazz explained.

"In that, you are correct. For now, however, I think you should join us, since Stephanie has not finished her coffee, and I could use a second serving of energon, it would provide us both with those opportunities and allow you to refuel while providing us with your company." Prowl suggested easily.

"Sounds good ta me! What do ya say Steph? Ya mind if I join ya?" Jazz replied.

"That's gotta be a joke, Jazz. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't even be here, so have a seat. There is a chair you can sit in… isn't there?" Stephanie finished skeptically.

"Yep! Sure is." Jazz answered as he sat down next to Prowl and faced his new roommate.

"Is this a private party, or is there room for a couple more to join in?" Asked a voice somewhere off to Stephanie's right.

Stephanie quickly recognized the voice of Mrs. Lennox, and given how high the voice originated from, Stephanie was sure that she was sitting on Ratchet's shoulder. "You'll have to ask Prowl and Jazz about that one, because it's their party. I'm just a tag along."

Prowl's door wings instantly rose from indignation. "_That_ is _not_ an acceptable answer, Stephanie! I will admit that I did require a small amount of fuel, but I could easily have obtained it in my quarters, and because Jazz was searching for you, it becomes immediately obvious that _you_ are the reason that we are here."

"Wow. That joke was killed so fast that it didn't even get a chance to crash and burn." Stephanie said ruefully.

Jazz started snickering at that comment as Sarah began to laugh, and there was a single snort of laughter from Ratchet, as the medic made his presence known.

"That's one thing Prowler's _really_ good at Steph! He can kill a joke faster than you can tell it." Jazz snickered.

"Yeah, I guess I need to think up a better one next time." Stephanie muttered.

"Good luck on that one Stephanie. To my knowledge, no one has ever heard Prowl laugh at a joke. Jazz might have heard it, but he has repeatedly refused to say one way or the other." Ratchet told her quickly.

"If the two of you would like to join us, I have no objections." Prowl said clearly as he indicated empty seats at both tables.

"Yeah, come on an have a seat! The bigger the party, the better it gets!" Jazz quipped cheerfully.

"I will ask you again Stephanie; do you have any objections to their joining us?" Prowl asked in a serious tone.

"Why would I say no? I like Mrs. Lennox, and I kind of like Ratchet too, at least when he isn't yelling at me for no reason." Stephanie answered honestly.

"Well, I promise that he won't yell at you unless you deserve it. Is that fair enough?" Sarah said reasonably.

Ratchet turned his head to give the woman on his shoulder a confused look, while Stephanie simply nodded her head in acceptance of the proposal. The medic moved over to the table, and placed Sarah down on it, so she could sit at the human sized version that was on top of it, before taking his own seat.

"So, you've had lunch I see. What'd you have?" Sarah asked casually as she sat down next to Stephanie on the girl's left.

"Well, Prowl figured out a easy way to tell me the menu, and I picked out a chicken noodle soup with lots of crackers, a glass of milk, and a cup of coffee." Stephanie answered brightly.

"And just how many cups of that coffee have you had?" Ratchet demanded instantly.

"This is my first cup since breakfast, and I've barely touched it!" Stephanie said defensively.

Ratchet shot a glance at Prowl, who said nothing, but was observing the discussion closely. "I told you that you were allowed no more than two cups of coffee. That was at breakfast. You may have two then, and two at lunch. _However_, if you _do_ have a total of four cups of coffee between those two meals, you may _not_ have _any_ caffeinated soft drinks! Is that clear? You do not need that much caffeine at your age!" He said firmly.

To Ratchet's complete surprise, Stephanie grinned widely. He had been expecting some type of vehement argument from the girl.

"I haven't had a soda in a long time, so I don't care about missing those. As long as I can have coffee at breakfast and lunch, I'm happy. I wouldn't say no to a hot chocolate every now and then though." Stephanie replied.

"Make sure that you drink it at least an hour before bed, and I'll have no objections on that, but _again_… no more than two cups!" Ratchet intoned.

"Now, how did I know _that_ was coming?" Stephanie asked with a shake of her head.

Sarah burst out laughing. "Ratchet's only trying to look out for you Stephanie. He has a strange way of showing it sometimes, but he really does care. Speaking of caring… what do you think of Jazz and Prowl?" She finished a little seriously.

"I like both of them, and Prowl is really nice. He… he even told me how my family got killed, and that… that he'd try to find out who did it." Stephanie replied sadly.

"Is that even _possible_? Prowl, how would you be able to find that out after all this time?" Sarah asked in disbelief as she looked up at the mech.

"There is a distinct possibility that I may not be able to discover the identity of the culprit, but the possibility exists that one of the Autobots involved in that battle may have seen who fired the shot that killed Stephanie's family and caused her injuries. Even if the identity of the guilty party remains unknown, Stephanie will at least know the cause of her losses." Prowl responded. "Whether I am successful or not will remain to be seen, but Stephanie will be provided with partial restitution in the form of supervision from both myself and Jazz, as we assume the role of her caretakers. I must also ask if you would be willing to assist as needed, since as a mother yourself, you would obviously know more about what Stephanie requires than either Jazz or I."

"What? Of _course _I'd be willing to help! I'd have to be a pretty worthless parent not to!" Sarah replied indignantly.

"Thank you. I am certain that your expertise will be appreciated, and needed at some point in time." Prowl answered.

Stephanie was letting the adults have their conversation while she simply listened. She wasn't sure what the future had in store for her, but she had already seen that staying here was going to be a _lot_ better than that foster home had been, and certainly better than living in the sewers had been. She reached out, picked up her coffee, and took a sip, only to make a sour face when she realized that it had gotten cold.

"I thought you _liked_ coffee! If so, then why are you making that face?" Ratchet asked suddenly.

"I do like coffee… but it's not very good after it gets cold." Stephanie replied sourly.

"Then I think it's time to get a fresh cup, don't you?" Sarah chimed in.

"I'd love a fresh cup. Can I have another bowl of chicken soup with more crackers too?" Stephanie asked eagerly.

"Yes, but no second servings at dinner. Your metabolic rate has dropped a lot because of your lifestyle, and you'll need to exercise in order to get it back up to normal. Otherwise, you'll become overweight." Ratchet instructed.

Stephanie frowned at that comment, before she leaned over closer to Sarah. "Is he going to lecture me about _everything_?" She asked in a whisper.

"There might be _some_ things that I won't lecture you about, but I can't think of anything like that at the moment." Ratchet told the girl with a smug smirk.

"Something tells me that I'm not going to like you very much." Stephanie muttered sourly.

"Hah! There aren't very many who do like me anyway, so adding your name to the list of those who don't, won't make much of a difference!" Ratchet replied smugly.

"Wow! At least I have a good reason for not having any friends." Stephanie said mostly to herself.

"Oh… I _do_ have some friends, and they happen to like me just the way I am, so if you don't, then that won't bother me in the least. I will _still_ make sure that you pay proper attention to your health!" Ratchet told her with a grin.

Stephanie's face twisted into an angry frown as she let out a disgusted huff of anger.

"Ratchet… that's enough!" Sarah snapped. "He's just teasing you Stephanie. They can hear a _lot_ better than we can so even if you whisper something to me while you're in the same room with one of them; they still hear it." Sarah told Stephanie while frowning at Ratchet.

"Well he doesn't have to be so grumpy about telling me what to do. I mean, I can't be _too_ stupid if I was able to live in the sewers on my own for this long." Stephanie replied readily.

"You're right Stephanie, and no one here thinks you're stupid. Living homeless on your own at your age would have scared me senseless. I wouldn't have the slightest idea what to do even now." Sarah said honestly.

"Well, it's not easy, and it's not fun either; especially when you have to hide from everyone." Stephanie said truthfully.

"Weren't you ever scared? God knows I would have been." Sarah exclaimed.

Stephanie nodded quickly. "All the time. I always had to worry about someone finding me. Because if they did, then they could turn me in for a reward, or sell me to a drug dealer so I'd be used for sex by total strangers, and I'd never be able to say who they were, or what they look like, or they might just decide to rape me."

Sarah's mouth dropped open to say something, but Stephanie continued before she could say anything.

"I learned that I needed to hide from everyone if I wanted to stay safe. Sometimes I have nightmares about being found by people; that and waking up in the hospital the day that man told me that my family was dead. The only person I never had to hide from was Vern. He's a coffee vendor, but he also sells donuts and Danish rolls and stuff." Stephanie finished in a sad monotone.

Sarah gaped at the girl in mute horror. The thought of losing her loved ones in such a way was one thing, and never knowing the cause or reason for that loss was horrible.

"When… when did you start having nightmares?" Sarah asked in confusion.

"Not too long after Old Miss Connors told me to stop coming around her, because she started thinking that I was a spy for the government. So, I guess it was maybe a month or so after I started living on the streets. Old Miss Connors wasn't really crazy at first, just a little weird, because she always called herself 'Old Miss Connors'. She never said 'I' or 'me', just Old Miss Connors. She did teach me a lot though. How to find some of the food that restaurants and grocery stores throw away, and that it always stays warm in the sewers, so that was where she'd take me when it got _really_ cold at night. None of the other homeless people liked going down into the sewers because of the smell, and because there aren't any lights down there. Since I _can't_ see, and there wasn't any way for _them_ to see; it just made the sewers a really good place for me to hide from everyone. That's why I started living down there. No one could really ever find me, and I could stay warm in the winter." Stephanie explained in easily once she began talking about something she was familiar with.

Sarah frowned in confusion at just how anyone could actually _live_ in a nasty, smelly sewer. "Do… did you… have like a bed or something to sleep on… how does that work?"

Stephanie shook her head with a snicker. "Nope. No bed, but I do have several sleeping places down there so I don't have too far to go, no matter where I am. The only time anyone ever found me down there was when a couple of men who were working on something got lost. I tried to run from them, but they caught up with me real easy."

"What happened then? Didn't they try to make you leave the sewers?" Sarah interrupted.

"They wanted to, but I told them that I would never show them how to get out if they tried. That was right before they _really_ wanted to know the way out because one of their lights went dead, so they knew they had to leave soon or they wouldn't be able to see. I told them how to get out, and took off in the other direction. I was lucky because they didn't have time to catch me and make me go back to that group foster home. I stayed away from that area for a while, but I did hear other workers trying to find me down there. They all gave up after a few weeks… At least, I _think_ it was a few weeks, it could have been longer than that though." Stephanie said with a laugh.

"That ain't funny Steph! Ya don't need ta live down there! That ain't a decent place for ya, so how can ya laugh about something like that?" Jazz demanded angrily.

"Because that's the funniest thing I had happen to me since I left that stupid foster home. Besides, I'm not down there now am I?" Stephanie answered with a frown.

"No… I guess ya ain't!" Jazz admitted reluctantly. "But ya never should a lived down there in the first place!"

"Well, if I hadn't still been living there, then I never would have been in that alley and I wouldn't have got to meet you." Stephanie reasoned.

"I do not believe that is the point that Jazz is trying to make, Stephanie. I will grant you that having met Jazz, as well as the rest of us, is a vast improvement in your life. However, it should also be obvious that proper care should have been provided to you from the onset of your disability, and that you should never have been forced into such an extreme and undesirable method of survival simply to ensure your safety." Prowl clarified.

"Jazz and Prowl are right! The sewers are no place for _anyone_ to live; _especially_ not you!" Ratchet snapped irritably.

"Maybe not, but I didn't have any other choices either, now did I?" Stephanie retorted just as irritably.

"Look… everyone just needs to calm down. Stephanie's not in the sewers anymore and all we can do for now is be _very_ glad that we've gotten her out of there!" Sarah told the three mechs, before she turned to the girl sitting beside her. "Stephanie, don't take what they're trying to say the wrong way. Right now, they're just mad because you lived there at all. They don't like it, and to be honest, I don't like it much either. I know you didn't see any other options, but that doesn't mean that other possibilities didn't exist; it just means that you did the only thing you knew to do. As frightening as that kind of living was, you still did it… and I _really_ have to wonder about the people who were running the foster home. You wouldn't happen to remember their names would you?"

Stephanie shook her head. She had long ago forgotten the names of the man and wife who had run the foster home, because she had no longer cared what their names were. She had gotten away from them and the other kids who were there, and that had been a huge relief for her. As frightening as living on her own had been, it wasn't half as terrifying as being forced to listen to plans for pranks that would have gotten her seriously hurt or even killed.

Stephanie took a deep breath to try to relax a bit, before she remembered that she had a cup of coffee in front of her. She knew that it had already gotten cold, but she reached for it anyway.

"Don't drink that! Our food will be here shortly. Ratchet already sent the order for it, so just hang in there a moment." Sarah exclaimed with a shudder at the thought of drinking cold coffee.

Stephanie heard the tone of disgust in the woman's voice, so she set the cup back on the table, and waited for a fresh cup of coffee. It wasn't until she remembered that she'd also be getting another bowl of soup with her coffee that she grinned in delight. Then she got a mischievous idea.

"Okay, but if it's not here soon then I'm drinking this cup anyway." Stephanie replied as seriously as she could.

"Oh no you won't!" Ratchet said as he reached over and took the cup away. "If you _insist_ on drinking coffee like you do, then you will either drink it hot or iced, but you will _not_ be drinking that stuff at room temperature! I will not have you causing others to lose their appetite." The medic groused.

Stephanie shot a frustrated glare in the general direction of the medic and defiantly reached up to grab the mentioned cup only to find it gone.

"That's _mean_ Ratchet!" Stephanie exclaimed irritably.

"Maybe it was, but in spite of what you might be familiar with, there are going to be some rules here, and you _will_ follow them!" Ratchet said sternly with a smirk on his faceplates.

"Rules? _Rules_? I know all about _rules_, Ratchet! Rule number one; never let anyone find me because they'll send me back to that foster home! Rule number two; never let anyone find me because they'll turn me in for some kind of reward! Rules number three; never let anyone find me because they'll rape me! Rule number four; never let anyone find me because they'll sell me as a sex slave to a drug dealer! Rule number five; never let anyone find me because they'll either steal or break what little I've got! Rule number six; never go out in the daytime because then people can find me! Rule number seven; never trust _anyone_ because they are going to want something from me, and I don't have anything I'm willing to give! Rule number eight; adults are _always_ going to want something from me, so stay away from them! Rule number nine; _always_ check the coin slots on phones and vending machines! Rule number ten; a lot of the food that grocery stores throw away is still good enough to eat, _if_ I can get there before everything is gone!" Stephanie hissed angrily as she glared in the direction of the medic.

"Hey want to take a guess at figuring out how many rules I'm breaking right now?" Stephanie asked without shifting her sightless glare.

"Five… out of a total of ten, which is half of the rules you've named." Prowl replied quietly in a very somber tone as his doorwings twitched rather violently.

"Those rules _don't_ apply anymore!" Ratchet countered with a growl.

"Ratchet, you have _not_ presented any type of valid argument to counter the rules by which Stephanie has obviously lived by and needed to adhere to in order to survive her previous environment, therefore, I would suggest that you refrain from worsening this situation by remaining silent." Prowl interjected quickly.

"Stephanie… I find myself in a _very_ unusual position right now, and it is not one that I am comfortable or familiar with… but I would like to ask you to make an exception to those rules in this case. I am aware that we have no means of proving our good intentions, nor do we have any immediate means of earning your trust, but I am asking you to please set aside, and ignore those rules and allow us the opportunity to prove such things to your satisfaction." Prowl asked seriously.


	5. Chapter 5

The Ties That Bind 5

"_Holy slag_!" Jazz exclaimed suddenly.

"_Now_, I've heard _everything_!" Ratchet muttered in a soft awe filled tone.

"Prowl is actually _asking_ someone to break tha rules? I _know_ that's a first! I'm spark bonded to 'im, and I've _never_ heard 'im ask somethin like _that_ before!" Jazz said in total disbelief as his faceplates dropped in shock.

"I believe there is a human expression which states that 'there is a first time for everything', and this is obviously the type of situation which was meant to be covered by that expression." Prowl stated flatly.

"You're right Prowl; I don't really have any good reasons to trust any of you, but I want to…" Stephanie said earnestly. "I _really_ want to because… I'm… I'm sick of being alone all the time and I'm tired of being scared of everyone because of what they might do to me… I _hate_ what I have to do just to stay alive, but I don't wanna die, and I don't wanna get hurt anymore than I already am! I don't wanna get raped, and I don't wanna be someone's sex toy, or slave or whatever it is they do to the people they steal off the street!" She added as tears filled her sightless grey eyes.

Sarah shot a glare at Ratchet and shook her head negatively when she caught the medic's gaze. Then, she laid a hand gently on the girl's shoulder, and leaned a little closer to her. "Look Stephanie, maybe you don't have any reason to trust us yet, but I think there might be few reasons for you to at least give us a chance. I mean just take a look at things for a minute. Jazz brought you here so you could get the help you needed when you were sick. He got you a temporary replacement for your cane that got broke. I also understand that he stopped someone from robbing you. When Jazz brought you here, Ratchet worked very hard to make sure that you'd get well. He got you clean clothes, and let you use his shower. Jazz even set up a place for you to stay in his home. Doesn't all of that tell you that we at least deserve a chance?"

Stephanie took a deep breath before she let it out in a ragged sigh. "Jazz didn't know me. He didn't even _care_ that he didn't know me when he stopped that guy from robbing me. Maybe that's what made me trust him enough to get in the car the other night. I've never really thought about rules until Ratchet brought it up, but that's the way I have to live, and I only brought up those rules because Ratchet made me mad. I mean, they aren't really rules, but they might as well be."

"Whether you have actually stated or listed them in some fashion or not, means nothing. The rules you so quickly stated are obviously founded in and from necessary methods of survival. Given the stringent and completely uncompromising nature of those rules, I would surmise that you violated several of them by simply allowing Jazz to bring you here. Punishment is required for violating _any_ rule, and the potential consequences that you've mentioned are _not_ insignificant. In fact it becomes obvious that by violating those rules as you so obviously have, you might well have placed your life in serious jeopardy, had you encountered anyone _but_ Jazz! I believe that there is a suitable human punishment is called getting 'grounded' for violating a rule. Therefore Stephanie, you are 'grounded' to this base for a minimum of one week, unless you are accompanied by an adult who has been authorized by either myself or Jazz to escort you elsewhere. Since I am also in charge of enforcing both the laws and the rules on this base, I am currently and officially _suspending_ the rules you have been abiding by until further notice. Is that acceptable?" Prowl stated clearly.

Stephanie's eyes went wide in disbelief for a brief moment before she burst out laughing. "I'm getting grounded to stay on this base because I was brought to this base?" She asked before laughing even harder.

"Somehow, I don't think she'll consider that to be much of a punishment Prowl." Sarah said with a snicker.

"It is… and at the same time… it is not." Prowl replied with an enigmatic smirk.

Sarah looked up at the black and white mech skeptically, while Stephanie turned her attention in the direction of the voice. "Okay, you're going to have to explain that one." Sarah said while shaking her head in confusion.

"Yeah… I'm with her on that one Prowler!" Jazz added skeptically.

"It is obvious from the rules that Stephanie listed off, that had she in fact, accepted a ride from someone else, her life could have been placed in grave danger. She did not know that Jazz was an Autobot, and therefore, had no idea that Jazz is in fact an honorable individual. Her actions the other night could easily have resulted in her death, severe physical harm, or even kidnapping and enslavement. As a result, punishment is required. The issue on the other servo is that this base would be considered to be a vast improvement over her previous existence; therefore, some type of reward for making a correct decision is also in order. By being confined to this base, Stephanie is being punished by such confinement, and yet she is simultaneously being rewarded by being able to make use of the facilities that are readily available here." Prowl explained easily.

"That's… that's got to be the weirdest thing I ever heard!" Stephanie exclaimed in disbelief. "The weirdest part… is that… it makes sense… sort of…" She finished with no small amount of confusion.

"That's my Prowler for ya Steph! Sometimes ya can't _ever_ figure 'im out, but ya can be sure that he _always_ makes sense!" Jazz said with a laugh.

"I think I'm going to like it here. Clean clothes, food that doesn't get baked in a dumpster, and even a real bed… I just wish I could borrow that shower and scrub brush again." Stephanie proclaimed happily before leaning towards Sarah. "Do I still smell like poo-doo?" She asked in a soft whisper.

Sarah didn't even hesitate as she instantly gave her answer. "No… more like wet dog actually." She said with a loud and obvious sniff of the air.

"_Wet dog_?" Stephanie exclaimed loudly. "How can I smell like a wet dog, when I've never even been around a dog?"

Sarah burst out laughing at the girl's reaction. "I'm joking Stephanie. You smell just fine."

"I was gonna say …wet _rat_ I could understand, because I've been around a few of those while going in and out of the sewers, but even they don't go as deep as I do, because no one can see down there." Stephanie clarified quickly.

"Well… I can't say that I know what wet rat smells like because I've never been close enough to smell one. I'm never _getting_ that close either! But I'm pretty sure you don't smell like that Stephanie." Sarah replied with a little disgust in her tone.

"_Good_! Because if I did smell like that, I'd be asking Ratchet if I could borrow his shower and scrub brush again! I don't know if they smell like poo-doo or not, but I don't wanna smell like one." Stephanie answered seriously.

"You can be _certain_ that if you _did_ smell like a rat, wet or otherwise, I would have told you to get back in that shower _immediately_! Our sense of smell is much better than a human's, and foul odors are even _more_ offensive to us than they are to you!" Ratchet chimed in with his typical grouchiness.

Stephanie glared in the Medic's direction for a moment before turning her head towards where she knew Prowl was sitting. "Prowl, can he really smell better than we can?" She asked since she was sure that he'd tell her the truth.

"Actually, all Cybertronian senses are much better than that of a human. Our sense of hearing is nearly equal to that of a terrestrial bat, or one of your sea going mammals. Our sense of smell is better than that of your canines, and our optics are able to function just as well as those of both an owl and a hawk combined. Ratchet has informed you correctly, Stephanie. As a general rule, an Autobot won't lie about such things, so your doubts are misplaced." Prowl answered easily.

"Then would you do me a favor, and let me know when I need to get back in the shower? I've been living in the sewers long enough that I don't really notice the smell anymore, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to tell when I stink or not." Stephanie told the black and white mech hesitantly.

"We got ya covered on that one, Steph! That ain't no big deal!" Jazz said quickly.

"I would have to agree with Jazz. The fact that you have made such an admission and request, in spite of the potential for severe personal embarrassment, clearly illustrates that you do not wish to offend others without cause. I find that commendable, Stephanie, and I will inform you, _in private_, I might add, if you do require a visit to a shower." Prowl added calmly.

"Showers and baths are one thing you won't have to skimp on around here since all the water is purified and recycled. So if you think you need one, or just feel like taking one to relax a little, then don't hesitate. Okay? You can take as many showers as you want." Sarah suggested amiably.

Ratchet looked over at the girl, and was about to insist that she take a least one shower or bath each day when a seemingly sly grin crept onto the girl's face. His optics narrowed in suspicion when he thought that Stephanie had thought of some way to avoid proper hygienic behavior.

"So nobody's gonna gripe at me if I take two or three showers everyday?" Stephanie asked eagerly with a sly grin still plastered on her face.

"Not at all, Stephanie." Sarah answered.

"Good! I'll take at least two, maybe three… because if I'm not going to live in the sewers anymore then I don't wanna smell I do." Stephanie smiled. "Hey, I still have that ten dollars… is there anyway I can buy a scrub brush with it? Rags and bath scrubbies just don't work on my scars, because I've tried those before. Everybody at the foster home kept telling me that I stink, and I don't wanna smell like poo-doo anymore." She added seriously.

Ratchet's optics widened in genuine surprise. He'd been almost positive that the girl sitting at the table would be like most human children and try to avoid a bath whenever possible. That was obviously not the case here though.

"If you have no objections, I can give you the brush you used earlier…" Ratchet began.

"That would be great! I don't know how much it costs, but I'll give you all ten dollars for it!" Stephanie offered quickly as she cut the Medic off.

"I said '_give_', and I _meant_ give!" Ratchet growled. "From what you've told us, I sincerely doubt that you have any reliable source of funds available. Therefore, you are to save what little currency you have, because I'm sure you can find other things to do with it."

"Well… I have clean clothes, I don't have to pay for food, and I don't have to scrounge for it either; I've got a cane that I can get around with, and I can get fresh hot coffee here for free. With all that, I don't really know what to do with the money, and I know it's not very much." Stephanie answered pensively.

"It may not be much, but that's better than having none at all; so just hang on to it like Ratchet said. I'm sure you'll find something to spend it on later." Sarah told her kindly.

Sarah shook her head in slight confusion. As little as this girl had by way of possessions, she spoke and acted as if she now had everything she could possibly need or want. It was actually more than a little disturbing to her, because she knew that if she were in that situation, she'd be close to tears from the loss of… well… _everything!_

'_Stephanie doesn't even have a spare change of clothes to wear and she's acting as if we've given her the key to the city or something.'_ Sarah thought in surprise. That was when she realized, that the basic necessities she'd always taken for granted such as a hot shower, a decent meal to eat, a soft warm bed, and clean clothes, were actually considered to be exquisite luxuries by the girl sitting next to her. It was a realization that told her just how different priorities could become when mere survival was the top priority in daily life.

'_Speaking of clothes…'_ Sarah thought suddenly. "Well Stephanie, since you're wearing all the clothes you've got, what do you say to a trip to the store later to get you a new wardrobe?"

Stephanie's mouth fell open in shock. "I… I don't think I've got that much money. I mean, ten dollars won't buy new clothes… will it?"

"Who said you'd be the one paying for it? Now don't get me wrong, I'm not talking about spending a fortune, but I can at least get you a few pair of socks, underwear, pants, and a couple of tops to change into. What do you say to that?" Sarah clarified easily.

Stephanie opened her mouth to say something, but her mind refused to cooperate at that moment. She closed her mouth and swallowed so she could try again, and she still couldn't get any words to come out. She sat there a moment struggling to think of something to say.

"Saying 'thank you' for something like that doesn't seem like enough." Stephanie finally said quietly once she found her voice.

Sarah honestly didn't know what to say in response to that. She could easily see that Stephanie felt as if she'd just been handed a fortune by a complete stranger, and really didn't know how to express the amount of gratitude that she felt. Finally, Sarah decided on a way out.

"I'll tell you what. We won't go to a mall or some place like that. We'll go to Wal~Mart so everything will be more affordable. How does that sound?" Sarah asked in an effort to down play her offer.

"Are you sure? Even Wal~Mart's expensive." Stephanie protested softly.

"Well, yes, Wal~Mart can be expensive if you buy a lot of stuff, but you need some clothes, and you definitely need some _essentials_ like underwear, and hygiene articles. When was the last time you brushed your hair?" Sarah replied easily.

Stephanie blanched stark white at that question. "Uhm… I… I don't know?" She answered hesitantly.

"Well then you probably need a hair brush, now don't you? No offense, but you've sort of got this whole mop thing going on up there that's even worse than a bird's nest." Sarah answered.

"That's what we're talking about Stephanie. I'm not your mother, and we aren't your parents, so none of us really have the right to tell you how to live, but we can at least _try_ to see to it that you're properly taken care of while you're here." Sarah told her gently.

"I'm sure it will take some getting used to, after being on your own for so long, but you can at least give us a chance, right?" Sarah asked casually.

"So long as I can stay with Jazz and Prowl, and Jazz keeps his promise; then I'll stay for as long as I can." Stephanie answered seriously.

"What do you mean by 'as long as you can'?" Sarah asked quickly.

"I mean for as long as you guys are willing to let me stay here." Stephanie replied. "I know you're gonna get tired of me sooner or later, and start griping just like the people at the foster home did. So when that happens, I'll go back home." She added simply

"You actually like Prowl, don't you?" Ratchet demanded quickly as he changed the subject because he was _not_ happy with the thought of the girl going back to the sewers, or with the idea that she actually considered those sewers to be her home.

"Of course I do! Even if he _did_ just ground me, he's still not a grouch like _some_ people!" Stephanie said with a very pointed glare in the general direction of the medic who had spoken to her.

Ratchet huffed silently as he regarded the girl sitting at the table. He maintained his watchful silence even when the soldier on KP duty arrived with the food and energon. He was slightly surprised that Stephanie had ordered chicken noodle soup, crackers, coffee, and a large glass of milk to go with her food.

'_Perhaps she actually does care about her health.'_ The medic thought doubtfully before he realized something. _'Between her being blind and the nearly useless state of her left arm, she would be constantly aware of how precarious her health is. That's why she's been so angry at me, because like all humans she hates to be reminded of the obvious!'_

The medic made a mental note to ease up a bit and simply observe Stephanie's behavior to see if she would actually tend to her own health needs, and if he saw that she wasn't, _then_ he could step in with instructions. Ratchet wasn't at all pleased with Stephanie's physical condition. He could see that she not only needed a proper diet, but she needed exercise as well. Thinking back over what she'd said, he realized that she knew she needed such things, and wanted to stay on the base so that she could get them in an environment that she considered acceptable. In his professional opinion, it was a tremendous improvement over the child's previous environment, _plus_ she could be properly supervised while she was on the base.

Stephanie crushed and mixed the crackers into her soup, and ate in contented silence while listening to Sarah talk to the three bots. She had no idea how she'd gotten lucky enough to meet Jazz the way she had, but she had to admit that even Ratchet, as grumpy, and grouchy as he was, seemed to want what was best for her. She still wasn't completely sure why Jazz had made her a place to stay in his own home with Prowl, but there was something about the calm voice and the way Prowl spoke that was very reassuring and even comforting. Then, she almost started laughing as she realized that she hadn't been with these mechs very long and she was already grounded for something she hadn't had any control over. The flipside to that, was that she had already gotten a _hot_ shower where she'd taken a long time, and gotten as clean as she could manage, and had not only been provided with clean clothes, boots that actually fit, but she'd also been given fresh hot food that was delicious, and a bed that was more comfortable than anything she could remember.

Stephanie paused for a moment after swallowing a mouthful of her soup. Everything that was being so casually given to her added up to a lot more than she would previously have dreamed of getting. The icing on the cake was that she now had at least three people that she could call friends, and although she wasn't quite sure about Ratchet yet, she could still talk to him, and that made a total of four people that she could talk to.

Having others that she could talk with wasn't something she was accustomed to, but at the same time, it was something she had craved. Stephanie knew that she wasn't used to being around other people, and being in the company of the mechs… well that would _really_ take some getting used to. Just being able to listen to their voices as they carried on a conversation, and knowing that she could join in without having to worry about a lot of consequences was a very unfamiliar feeling, but a very welcome one at the same time.

Stephanie's attention was pulled back to the conversation when she heard Sarah start to tell Jazz about all the different things she would need.

"It would be more effective if you were to inform me of any additional requirements that Stephanie might need. Whether he chooses to admit it or not, I believe that Jazz would be far too lenient, and would fail to enforce such things as curfews and bed times." Prowl said clearly.

Stephanie smiled as she thought about chiming in with a joke, but then she decided against interrupting the adults, even though they were discussing her, and her situation. Besides, while she might consider it a little funny, the others might not, and she really didn't want to leave just because of a stupid joke. She turned her attention back to her soup, and ate quietly.

Stephanie finished eating, and sipped at her coffee while wondering what she was going to do with her time. She knew that living in the sewers, meant that she had to constantly search for something to eat, because most of what she found usually smelled too rotten to be eaten. It was a hard existence in which every waking moment was a constant struggle to simply survive for one more day. Thinking about any kind of a future was out of the question, because the present _always_ took priority. Food, shelter from the elements, water, and a dry, safe place to sleep… those were the things that she'd had to focus on.

Now, was a very different story; right now, she was clean, sitting with a full stomach, and able to think about some kind of a future. Stephanie wasn't sure what the future held for her, and she had no idea what possibilities were available. There was one thing she was sure of though, and that was that she wanted to stay with Jazz and Prowl because they both nice to talk to. As for Mrs. Lennox… Stephanie had to admit that the woman was really nice… after all… the woman had even held her and let her cry on her shoulder like she was a two year old or something.

"Mommy!"

Stephanie was jerked from her thoughts by the gleeful shout. Frozen in shock by the voice, she struggled not to start crying right then and there. That voice sounded so hauntingly familiar, that it brought hundreds of memories and a ton of heartache to her mind instantly. She knew that it wasn't possible, because Celeste was dead along with her mother and father. None the less, the voice she'd just heard had sounded almost exactly like her little sister.

"Annabelle! Come on up Sweetie. Did you have fun with Mikeala and Chromia?" Sarah answered happily.

"Uh-huh. We played hide and seek, and they almost didn't finded me!" Annabelle exclaimed in the same happy tone.

Stephanie fought with the heartache that threatened to overwhelm her at that moment. Such small things that probably wouldn't really matter to most people, but these were the kind of moments that Stephanie had begun to miss the most. Something simple, and not really worth mentioning, or even remembering later on in life, but what made it so important was that they were happy. She would gladly give anything asked of her to be able to experience just one more happy time with her family.

"So what else did you ladies do today?" Sarah asked.

"We wented to the park and played at the merry go round and bunches of stuffs." Annabelle replied as she got into her mother's lap.

"Apparently, she's had a pretty busy day so far. So she should be good to go when it's time for her nap." Said a male voice that Stephanie didn't recognize.

"Hey Mommy… who's her?" Annabelle asked upon spotting Stephanie sitting to her mother's right.

"Her name is Stephanie. Jazz brought her to the base a few nights ago, and it's a very good thing he did too, because she was so sick that she would have died if he hadn't brought her here." Sarah answered with a meaningful look at her husband.

"Her was sick?" Annabelle asked in wonder.

"Yes she was, so she won't really be up to playing with you for a couple of days." Sarah answered.

"If she was that bad off, why wasn't she taken to a regular hospital?" Will asked seriously.

"Because she would have had to wait while they tried to identify her so they could get treatment consent from her legal guardians, and she doesn't _have_ any. The result is that she wouldn't have gotten _any_ treatment, and she would have been… pronounced _deceased_ within a few hours. Severe food poisoning isn't something to mess around with." Sarah said seriously.

"My apologies, Stephanie. The young girl you heard is my daughter Annabelle, and the man is my husband William, but everyone just calls him Will." Sarah said as she turned her attention to the girl on her right.

"My name's Stephanie… but you can call me Steph if you want." She answered hesitantly.

Stephanie knew from what had just been said that there might be a problem with her being here. It made her nervous, and she wondered if she would have a chance to get Jazz to take her back to the alley if she wasn't allowed to stay.

Col. Lennox frowned when he saw the strange girl staring at a point off to his left. He gave a casual wave of greeting, and saw that there was no reaction to it at all.

"You'll have to speak to her Will. She doesn't have a cane or shades to show it, but Stephanie's blind." Sarah informed her husband politely.

"Her can't see at _all_?" Annabelle asked in a tone of awe.

"No Sweetie, she can't. She got hurt really, really bad a long time ago, so she can't really move her left arm either. So don't pull on it or anything like that because that'll hurt even worse than getting a shot." Sarah told her daughter seriously.

Annabelle's eyes went wide at that comment, and she shook her head seriously. "I pwomise I won't do that Mommy." She said earnestly while crossing her heart.

"That's good Honey." Sarah smiled.

"So how'd it happen?" Will asked while eyeing the scar tissue that covered the girl's left arm.

"She was caught in an explosion. The blast not only left her blind and unable to use that left arm, but also… left her… _bereft_ of relatives." Sarah answered quickly, but had to think carefully about those last few words, so the five year old in her lap wouldn't understand the phrase and be upset by it.

"When did _that_ happen?" Will demanded in surprise.

"It happened about five years ago… in downtown Mission City." Sarah said with a pointed glance at the three mechs seated at the table.

William Lennox wasn't stupid, and he immediately understood why his wife was being somewhat evasive about what she was saying. Neither of them wanted Annabelle to know any real details about that battle, because they felt that she was still too young. He also understood that the girl sitting at the table had a very good reason to be there. That wasn't to say that he didn't have all kinds of additional questions that he wanted answered, but he figured that he could get those later.

"Nice to meet you Stephanie." Will said seriously as he introduced himself.

"It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Lennox." Stephanie answered nervously.

Ratchet had been observing Stephanie while she ate. He was making note of the girl's behavior and mannerisms to determine whether or not she would properly attend to her particular health needs. He noted that she drank the glass of milk with obvious relish, but would slowly sip at the coffee in order to savor it. The sudden and drastic increase in Stephanie's vital signs when Annabelle had called out to her mother was a cause for concern though. It wasn't until a forlorn expression crossed the girl's face, that he gained an idea as to a possible cause.

'_She must have been reminded of one of her family members.'_ Ratchet thought sourly as he quietly observed the girl.

"My name is Annabelle… what's you's?" Annabelle piped up cheerfully.

"I'm Stephanie, and it's nice to meet you Annabelle." She answered after swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Hi Stephy! Can we be friends?" Annabelle asked excitedly.

Stephanie almost choked at just how eager the girl was. "Um… sure… uh… why not?"

"_Yay_!" Annabelle squealed in delight. "Mommy… I gots a new fwiend! Can her come over and play when her gets better?"

"I can't say that I'd mind, but I think you should ask her, and you should ask permission from Jazz and Prowl since she lives with them." Sarah told her daughter seriously.

"You live with _Prowl_?" Will blurted in astonished surprise.

Stephanie nodded her head. "That's not a problem is it?" She asked hesitantly.

'_Holy crap! Prowl is _the_ strictest mech alive! Living with him would be even worse than living with the Pope! At least the_ Pope's_ liable to forgive you! If she breaks any rules around him, he'll probably toss her in the brig for longer than a human's lifespan.'_ Will thought in amazement as he shook his head.

That was when Will recovered his senses from the shock of learning who the girl was living with, and remembered that she was blind. "No … no that's not a problem at all. A fair warning though, Prowl is well known to be a _serious _stickler for rules and regulations. That includes laws too… so don't try to get away with anything around him, because it won't happen."

Stephanie smiled and snorted a brief laugh. "Yeah… I've sort of figured that one out already, but he's still really nice and I like him."

William Lennox just shook his head on that one, because he really had no idea how to respond to it.

"I hate to do it, Hon, but I have to hightail it back to work. I've got a ton of paperwork I need to finish up, so I'll see you this evening." Will said to Sarah.

"Okay, I'll see you then." Sarah answered as she kissed her husband and watched him leave.

"So Stephanie… how do you feel about a trip to Wal~Mart in a little while? Think you'll be up to it?" Sarah asked as she turned her attention to the girl beside her.

Stephanie turned toward Sarah with a surprised expression on her face.

"You'll have to ask Prowl about that because he grounded me… remember?" Stephanie answered ruefully.

"That is correct, Stephanie. However; I distinctly recall stating the proviso that in order to leave this base you must be accompanied by myself, Jazz, or an adult authorized by one of us to escort you elsewhere. Since Sarah is not only a mother herself, but also a medical professional as well, it is immediately obvious that more acceptable human supervision would be difficult to obtain. Therefore, Sarah is authorized to take you anywhere she deems necessary, and at any time she feels is appropriate. Do you have any objections to that?" Prowl stated clearly.

"No… why would I not wanna go shopping, when I'll be getting some new clothes and stuff?" Stephanie asked curiously as she turned her head in Prowls direction.

"You present a very valid point Stephanie. However, I am aware that humans such as yourself require several changes of clothing. You have told me that Ratchet burned the clothing you were wearing. That combined with Sarah's statement earlier that you are wearing everything you currently have, means that you need additional clothing and undergarments. Since I have a supply of human funds available, but have seen no reason to use them as yet, I will contribute to the purchase of your necessities." Prowl stated clearly.

"Now look Prowler… don' think you're gonna be tha only one ta help her out; cuz ya ain't!" Jazz said firmly.

"That concept never entered my processors. However, you have already provided a considerable amount of assistance to Stephanie. It is due to your assistance that she was not robbed, that she was brought to this base to receive vital medical treatment which has saved her life, received a temporary replacement for a cane which is being specially built for her physical condition, and now she has living quarters which are situated in a clean and supervised environment. Since you have done all of this, I believe that it should now be _my_ turn to provide some level of assistance, and one small part of that will consist of providing the funds for the purchase of necessities." Prowl countered easily.

"Okay now this is _really_ getting weird!" Stephanie muttered.

"Wait… are you two _seriously_ going to argue over who gets to take care of her?" Sarah asked in disbelief.

"No. We are not. Jazz and I made a commitment to each other when we became Spark-mates. Part of that commitment is that we do things _together_. By providing Stephanie with a place to live in the quarters that we share, Jazz has made it clear that he intends to become a part of her life by assuming the responsibility and role of caretaker. Our commitment to each other means that it is now _my_ responsibility as well. I am simply asserting the fact that I will be assuming an equal share of the responsibilities in providing and caring for Stephanie. At this time, Jazz does not have sufficient funds to purchase those items which Stephanie will need; therefore, I will provide the funds for those necessities." Prowl stated clearly.

"I cain't argue with that, and I ain't sure that I want ta either." Jazz quipped with a grin.

"'Sides, if my Prowler wants ta spend some money on a girl… who am I ta say no?" Jazz continued with a wide smile.

Prowl's doorwings stiffened in indignation while he slowly turned his head to face Jazz. "I am not frivolously spending my money on a '_girl_'! I am purchasing those things needed by Stephanie."

"Yer, _still_ spending yer money, and in case ya hadn't noticed… Stephanie _is_ a girl! So yer spending yer money on a girl, an it's about time too!" Jazz smirked.

"Okay… I'm not _touching_ that one!" Stephanie muttered quickly.

"I don't blame you; I wouldn't want anything to do with that comment either." Sarah replied in disbelief.

"Huh? Why not?" Jazz asked in confusion.

"Because Jazz… you're making it sound like Prowl has some type of romantic interest in Stephanie. I know you're only trying to tease Prowl, but Stephanie might not like being the subject of that kind of thing." Sarah lectured.

"Well… to be honest… it's not that I even care, I just…" Stephanie said before trailing off with a shrug because she didn't know what to say.

"A valid point is being made Jazz. As of yet, we do not know very much about Stephanie. Her likes, dislikes, preferences, predilections, and even what types of humor she enjoys are unknown to us at this time. Therefore, it would be wise to avoid jokes or insinuations of an intimate nature until such time as we are more familiar with Stephanie's responses." Prowl instructed calmly.

"I think ya got a point on that one Prowler. Sorry bout that Steph, I was just tryin ta poke some fun; didn't mean ta insult ya though." Jazz explained.

"No problem, Jazz. Sorry about getting you in trouble." Stephanie answered while her mouth quirked ruefully.

"Nah! Ya didn't get me in any trouble. Prowler's always on me about somethin or other, so I'm used to it." Jazz replied.

"That is invariably true Stephanie. I am constantly forced to lecture, or otherwise correct Jazz on many issues. It is something that I have become accustomed to doing. Jazz tends to be rather chaotic in life, therefore I try to provide a stable influence for him. It is a method that has functioned quite well for us, for a very long time." Prowl explained easily.

"So _that's_ why you two get along so well!" Ratchet exclaimed.

"That is indeed a large part of what originally drew us together, however, Jazz and I have found that we compliment each other in many ways, and each of us possesses traits and qualities that the other might lack. Our Spark Bond allows us to benefit from the other. Where Jazz is outgoing and exuberant, I am quiet and reserved. That is what Spark mates are supposed to be for each other." Prowl explained carefully.

"I'm surprised that you are revealing that much about the relationship between you two." Ratchet said in confusion.

"Under normal circumstances I would not reveal anything. However, Stephanie deserves some type of explanation for our behavior, and I have now provided that explanation. Therefore, any further explanations can be made in private." Prowl stated in reply.

"Yeah… I get the feeling that was a bunch of private stuff that you don't normally talk about. So if there's any more explanations like that, you can count on me to keep my mouth shut about it." Stephanie chimed in quickly.

Prowl's doorwings rose just a just a bit as he studied Stephanie. "I must express my appreciation for your silence in that regard in advance. It would seem that you are as intelligent as you are resourceful, and before anyone attempts to disagree… I must point out that Stephanie has managed to survive on her own for a number of years while surmounting numerous obstacles and persevering in the face of adversity. An individual who did not possess such qualities would have succumbed to defeat and placed themselves back in the care of the foster system. That Stephanie has not done so, indicates a fair level of intelligence for her age."

"I'd have to agree." Sarah said quickly. "So… do you feel like you're up to a trip to Wal-Mart?"

"Sure… if you feel like taking me." Stephanie answered eagerly.


	6. Chapter 6

As Sarah pulled into the Wal-Mart parking lot, she looked for a spot that was close to the entrance. She knew that even though Stephanie was blind, that she couldn't use a handicapped space because she didn't have a placard and didn't want her car towed while she was inside. She got out and helped Annabelle out of her car-seat in the back, before going around the Cooper Mini and leading Stephanie into the store.

"Hey _Sarah_! Wait up!"

The question of who was calling Sarah's name was quickly answered as Annabelle let out an excited shout.

"Keala!"

"Keala… you come shopping too?" Annabelle asked after getting the young woman's attention.

"Sure am! I told you I was buying a new laptop today, didn't I?" Mikaela asked the five year old after running over to join them.

"Uh huh. You did telled me that. I member you telled me that." Annabelle replied.

"Well, that's why I'm here, so I can buy my new laptop." Mikaela answered brightly.

"Oh…" Annabelle muttered in understanding before she quickly brightened up. "Hey, Keala… I gots a new fwiend! Her name Stephy… Her's nice, but her's is sick right now, so her can't play with me. Her's is blind too, so her can't see at all." She said seriously.

"Hey… I want to thank you for watching Annabelle for me earlier." Sarah said gratefully. "It's not easy to find a sitter on Saturday without notice. So I _really_ appreciate that."

"Hey no problem. She's a lot of fun to hang with." Mikaela said cheerfully before nodding towards the girl on Sarah's arm with a curious look on her face.

"Mikaela, this is Stephanie. She's a pretty nice person, and I'll tell you about her when we get back to the base. Annabelle wasn't exaggerating about the blindness though." Sarah explained as she indicated the girl holding on to her left arm.

"In that case…" Mikaela said with a light smile as she turned to the girl in question. "It's nice to meet you, Stephanie. I'm Mikaela."

After several years of avoiding almost _everyone_, Stephanie was highly uncomfortable meeting and being around people. She'd met more people in the past few days than she'd even _known_ during the past four years. It wasn't something that was easy to get used to in a short time.

It had been so long that it actually took Stephanie a moment to remember how to introduce herself properly to someone. She gave a nervous and apologetic smile as she let go of Sarah's arm to stick her right hand out.

"Hi, Mikaela." She said with an apprehensive smile as she felt someone shake her hand.

"So… what are you guys doing here?" Mikaela asked while taking Annabelle's hand.

"Well, Stephanie just arrived, and she's going to be staying with _'The Jazz Man'_ and his roommate. Since all she's got to her name is what she's wearing, we're here to get her a couple things to wear along with some hygiene articles and a few _essentials_." Sarah said emphasizing the last word quietly.

"She doesn't have _anything_?" Mikaela asked in disbelief.

"Not even a second pair of socks or a toothbrush." Sarah confirmed.

"Sounds like a hardcore shopping spree is in order," Mikaela replied with a serious expression before she suddenly grinned. "Count me in!"

ooo000ooo

Stephanie was sitting on her bed after the shopping trip to Wal-Mart. Sarah, Mikaela and Annabelle had left, and Stephanie was waiting for either Jazz or Prowl to come back. She had no ideas as far as what to do, because now that she had already eaten much more than she normally would have found on a lucky day, she didn't have to search for food to eat tomorrow or the next day.

Before she had met Jazz, Stephanie had been sure that the only people who would have cared whether or not she got plenty to eat, and had a warm bed to sleep in were her parents. After their death, she had been convinced that no one would care what happened to her. She knew it, because it had been proven several times. It was a depressing and unbelievably lonely feeling to know that the only reason someone would care about the fact that you died was the mess that was left for them to clean up afterwards.

Now, Jazz and his friends were showing her something that was almost like a different reality… a different world entirely. That was when she remembered what Mrs. Lennox had said about Ratchet. As she thought about it, Stephanie realized that Mrs. Lennox had to be telling the truth. Ratchet was only being grouchy to her because he actually cared about what happened to her. The only times that Ratchet had seemed to get really grouchy or mean was when he was trying to make sure that she was taking care of herself. The only time he'd really gotten mad at her when he found out that she'd been eating stuff she got from dumpsters, and he'd only yelled at her to keep her from walking off a ledge. So maybe Mrs. Lennox was right, and that Ratchet really did care. If he did, he sure had a weird way of showing it, but she decided that she would give the grouchy medic a chance.

Since there really wasn't anything else she could do while waiting, Stephanie decided to take a shower while she waited for Jazz and Prowl to get back. She felt her way to the bathroom, and after trying in the wrong direction a couple of times, found that it was along the same wall as her bed, but directly away from it towards the door. She got undressed and placed the clothes that she had been wearing just outside the bathroom door. Then, she remembered the stuff that she needed for her shower. She followed the wall back to her bed, and got a pair of underwear, a large T-shirt that she could either wear or sleep in, a towel, body wash, shampoo, hair brush, and the long handled scrub brush that Mrs. Lennox had found at the store. She laid the lightly tinted sunglasses on her dresser, and put the rest of the stuff in one of the plastic bags from the store, and made her way back to the bathroom.

Stephanie took the stuff out of the bag and placed it where she could get to it. The hair brush went on the small sink. The T-shirt went on the closed toilet, Underwear on top of that, and the towel on top of those. Then she put the shampoo, body wash, and scrub brush on a small shelf in the shower. She was glad that Mrs. Lennox had shown her the difference between the two bottles so she didn't get them mixed up, because the body wash had a flat top with the cap just like the bottle, but the shampoo had a regular cap on it. She turned the water on, and waited for it to get hot, then she adjusted it to a level of heat that she liked before getting in.

Being her second shower in several years, Stephanie was actually enjoying herself. The long handled scrub brush meant that she could actually scrub her back and make sure to get rid of all the dirt and grime. Knowing that she was actually getting clean, made her feel good inside. So good in fact that she was soon humming in happiness.

As Prowl entered his quarters, followed by Jazz, and Ratchet, he was greeted by the sight of Stephanie sitting in front of her bed in a split position. Her left hand was on the floor in front of her, and her right was arched over her body as she leaned slightly to her left. She was also humming softly.

"What'cha doin Steph?" Jazz asked upon seeing the strange position.

"Well I didn't have anything else to do when we got done shopping, so I took a nice long shower. I just got out a few minutes ago… I think… but I wanted to see if I could still do some of my Ballet stretches." Stephanie replied with a smile as she leaned back into an upright position and put her right arm down. "I haven't done this since… well, since I got hurt, but I didn't have anything else to do, so I figured that I might as well do _something_."

"Just make sure that you don't over stretch those muscles, and be careful about that scar tissue. I do _not_ want to see you in my med bay because of pulled muscles, damaged tendons, or torn skin." Ratchet instructed firmly.

"I took Ballet classes for two years Ratchet! I know how to stretch and not over do it. Just because I won't ever get to dance after my teacher said that I had the potential and the drive to be one of the best, doesn't mean I forgot how to do it. I gave up just about everything so I could be a Ballerina when I grow up, even though that will never happen now, it don't mean that I'll ever forget what used to be the most important thing in my life!" Stephanie shot back angrily.

"I believe that you misunderstand Ratchet's warning Stephanie. He is simply telling you to be cautious. If you have not performed such exercises in several years, then it will be easily possible to become injured as you try to do something that you were once accustomed to doing with ease. Therefore, you have no valid reason for becoming angry." Prowl interjected before the situation could worsen.

"Oh..." Stephanie answered plainly. "Well he doesn't have to be so mean about it." She groused.

"Hah! She's got ya there Ratch." Jazz said with a grin. "Looks like yer gonna have ta change how ya talk to her cause she ain't gonna take yer grouchiness."

"Humph! I happen to _like_ being grouchy, grumpy, and _irritable_, and _no one_ is going to make me change!" Ratchet shot back.

Stephanie turned her head towards where Jazz's voice had come from with a perplexed look on her face. "Is he serious?" She asked in disbelief.

"Unfortunately Stephanie, the answer to that is a definitive 'yes'. Ratchet has been surly for an extremely long time; for millions of your years. In fact, I do not believe that anyone has ever known him to be otherwise." Prowl informed her.

"Wow! Sounds like he can give old Scrooge a few lessons." Stephanie muttered.

Ratchet burst out laughing when he heard that. "Scrooge is a bungling _amateur_ compared to me." Ratchet stated proudly with a smug grin.

"Fine! Then from now on, I'm calling you 'Humbug', and don't think I won't… Humbug!" Stephanie shot back firmly.

"Well before you do that, you need to get some rest. That salmonella infection from food poisoning is not completely cleared from your system yet, and you aren't in any condition for a relapse." Ratchet ordered.

"Well I'm not tired or sleepy yet Humbug. Besides I wanna talk to Prowl and Jazz before I go to bed." Stephanie shot back quickly.

"You can talk to them _after_ you get some sleep!" Ratchet ordered firmly.

"Not gonna happen!" Stephanie shot back with a smirk. "I'm not tired or sleepy yet, so I'd just end up laying there getting restless for who knows how long."

Ratchet growled irritably, but he knew the girl had a point. "Fine! Prowl, I want you to make sure that she does not exert herself or do anything strenuous before she goes to sleep."

"Considering that Stephanie is currently recovering from a case of food poisoning, and that she is not only a critical witness to a serious crime, but she is _also_ under my supervision as well, you may rest assured that your instructions will be followed. In addition, I believe that you should note Stephanie's attire." Prowl said in what Stephanie and Jazz would have sworn was a smug tone.

"It's a large T-shirt… so what?" Ratchet groused.

"Yes. It is human apparel that is often used for sleeping. This would indicate that Stephanie does not plan to attempt anything strenuous, or otherwise exert herself, before making use of her bed." Prowl pointed out.

"Exactly! That means you're gonna have to do better Humbug, _if_ you wanna stay on top of the game that is. I took a long hot shower to get clean, and loosen up my muscles so I could do a few stretches until Jazz and Prowl got back. Now that they're here, I'm gonna talk to them until I get sleepy, then I'm going to bed! So better luck next time Humbug!" Stephanie added with a wide and smug smile.

Jazz suddenly burst out laughing. This wasn't the kind of thing that was forced, like much of his laughter had been since his resurrection. This was a laugh that was real, genuine, and straight from the spark. He stepped over to Stephanie and picked her up while still laughing.

Stephanie gasped in surprise when she felt those large fingers grab her, but she knew from hearing him come closer because of the way that Jazz was laughing, who it was that had her. She could feel those fingers vibrating and shaking from the force of the laugh. She couldn't help but start to giggle in response to that hearty and infectious laugh.

"Face it Ratch! Steph done got ya _good_! Ah nevah thought ah'd live ta see tha day when ya'd get told because ya tried ta tell someone ta do somthin they were _already_ doin ta begin with." Jazz stated while still laughing, before turning his attention to the now giggling Stephanie. "Thanks Steph. Ah ain't laughed like that in a _long_ time. Feels good though."

Ratchet was not fond of being laughed at, but then there wasn't anyone who was, and he quickly made his exit while still fuming over the way that he'd been made the butt of a joke.

"Setting all jocularity and witticisms aside Stephanie, Ratchet _did_ make a valid point. Neither Jazz or I would like it very much if you suffered a relapse, and required another stay in the infirmary." Prowl said seriously.

"Believe me Prowl, I don't want that either! If you think I wanna get puking sick like that again, then you're crazier than I am blind!" Stephanie said earnestly.

"Considering that I am not, as you so eloquently phrased it… _crazy_, it would become immediately obvious that you do not wish to relapse or visit the infirmary." Prowl observed quietly.

"Yeah… what you said. Not that I really know what it was, because the only thing I really understood was that I don't wanna get sick or go back to infirmary again." Stephanie said with her head turned in Prowl's direction.

"In that case, it is clear that you will require a vast improvement in your vocabulary. To that extent, I would most assuredly be willing to assist you." Prowl said with a light smile.

"Huh?" Stephanie demanded in confusion. "That ain't fair Prowl! If you're gonna use words that I don't know, you could at least tell me what they mean." She finished irritably.

Jazz cracked up when he heard that. He could tell already that life was about to become very interesting with Stephanie around, not to mention a bit funny as well. "Tha's exactly what he said he'd do Steph. He'll teach ya ta unnerstand the way he talks, and probably a lot more'n that too."

"Cool!" Stephanie said as her expression brightened. "So he's gonna teach me stuff, and you'll be teaching me things too right?"

"Yep! Tha's the way it's gonna be Steph. You're hangin wit _us_ now, so ya gotta be sharp." Jazz said with a grin.

"Jazz is entirely correct in this instance, Stephanie. We will both be attending to your education, as well as your physical health and needs." Prowl explained.

"I can live with that." Stephanie said brightly as she reached towards Jazz's chest with her right hand and began feeling around slowly. "So… you can change in to a car, right?"

"Yes, Stephanie, we both do." Prowl replied.

"So what kind of cars do you turn into?" She asked curiously.

"Jazz transforms into a 2007 Silver Pontiac Solstice. It is a rather small two seater sports car. I on the other hand, am a 2010 Police modified Dodge Charger with a twin supercharged fuel injected Hemi engine. Both of us are capable of high speeds, although Jazz is somewhat faster and more maneuverable." Prowl explained.

"Oh, okay... I know what a Charger looks like, because I've seen those, but I've never seen a Pontiac Solstice before." Stephanie finished wryly.

"Don't ya worry about it Steph. All that matters is ya gonna be ridin in tha front seat when ya crusin round wit me!" Jazz proclaimed smugly. "And ya gonna be doin it in _style_!"

Stephanie frowned in concentration for a moment as she faced in Jazz's direction. "Wait… if you only have two seats… aren't they both the front seat then?" She asked in confusion.

"Yep! Tha's why ya gonna be ridin in tha front seat when ya crusin wit me." Jazz replied smugly.

"If you only have a front seat, then I won't have any choice… unless you stuff me in the trunk." She said wryly.

"I ain't gonna be doin somethin like that to ya Steph. Ya either gonna be in mah hand, front seat, or maybe on mah shoulder once ya get used to it." Jazz told her with a chuckle.

Stephanie lifted her head in the direction that Jazz's voice was coming from with a concerned expression on her face. "If… if I sit on your shoulder… is there something I can hold on to so I can make sure I don't fall?" She asked worriedly.

"Sure! Ya can hold on ta my head if ya need to. I'll jus make sure ta put ya on my left shoulder so ya can hold on wit yer right hand. How's dat?" Jazz answered with a grin.

"That sounds… that sounds fine. I just need some time to get used to it though. I mean, I'm not even used to being around people yet, forget about being carried around on somebody's shoulder." Stephanie replied honestly.

"Stephanie has a very valid point, and she has just made that point quite effectively. Having been forced by her circumstances to avoid interaction with others has become a necessary method of survival. Therefore, it is not unlikely that she will often be hesitant or reluctant to interact with us or others on this base. That is something that we will need to take into consideration when dealing with her." Prowl offered.

"Ya got dat right, Prowler. We're gonna have ta show Steph what it means ta _live_ again." Jazz declared fervently.

"What Jazz has said is very true Stephanie. Part of our responsibility is to ensure that you are able to properly function around and with others. We are not your 'parents' as you humans refer to them; however, Jazz and I have assumed that responsibility in regard to you. Therefore, we will ensure that you are properly taken care of. That will include health, clothing, education, as well as a suitable living environment. It is doubtful that you will always agree with us on what is best for you, but I am hopeful that any situations or disagreements which arise might be settled amicably." Prowl replied.

Stephanie frowned as she tried to understand all that was just said to her, but that last statement left her puzzled. "I know I don't know all those big and fancy words of yours Prowl, but I'm _not_ stupid!"

"It is not my intention to imply that you are. I am merely stating that…" Prowl began calmly.

"What he's sayin is that he don't want a yellin and screamin argument if there's something that ya don't like. He wants us ta talk it out, an still be friends when it's over." Jazz explained as he interrupted.

"I'd like that." Stephanie agreed quickly. "Both of you are nice, and I want to keep you as friends. I saw what it was like when I was at the foster home, and I had to live in a place where everyone hated me. The sewers was better, because at least I didn't have to listen to everyone tell me how much they hated me."

"I do not foresee any reason that I would hate you Stephanie. However, should you _intentionally_ disregard a rule, then I might become disappointed with you, possibly even angry, but that would not mean that I hate you, I would simply not like your actions." Prowl replied.

"That makes sense. It'd be like if I wanted a cup of coffee before I go to bed. And you didn't let me have it. It'd keep me awake, but if I really wanted it, and you said no, then I'd be mad because you didn't let me have it." Stephanie said after realizing what Prowl meant.

"That is an excellent hypothetical scenario." Prowl responded with a nod.

"Huh?" Stephanie blurted in confusion. "What do those last two words mean?"

Jazz started chuckling at that. "He said ya gave a good example there Steph. That _is_ only an example… right?"

"Yeah, it is!" Stephanie exclaimed quickly. "I found out the hard way that coffee won't let you get to sleep _forever_ if you drink it before you go to bed!"

"Then that is one problem we will not be required to deal with." Prowl said a bit smugly.

"Stephanie, I wish to explain something to you in confidence. I would ask that you do not repeat this to anyone, for any reason. To date, there are only three others who know of this. Those three are Jazz, for obvious reasons, Ratchet, since he must conduct any repairs that I might need, and Optimus Prime, since he is both the leader of the Autobots, and the lawful ruler of Cybertron. I would not tell you about this under normal circumstances, but because you will now be living with us, you deserve to know what you will be dealing with. May I prevail upon you to remain silent in regard to an issue that is very personal and private?" Prowl asked seriously.

"If you're asking me to keep something a secret Prowl, then you bet! I know I haven't been told a secret in a long time, and I don't know any secrets that matter right now, but I still know how to keep one." Stephanie answered seriously.

"Actually ya _do_ know a secret already Steph." Jazz interjected.

Stephanie turned her head in Jazz's direction with a puzzled frown on her face. "What secret do I know?" She asked doubtfully.

"Well ya know about us, and _we're_ supposed ta be a secret." Jazz explained seriously.

"Oh…" Stephanie muttered.

Then, Stephanie turned her face up towards Jazz and grinned mischievously. "Well… I can _truthfully_ say that I've never seen any Cyber… Cybertronians, a mech, or a bot in my life."

"You may not be able to _see_ us Stephanie, but that does not negate your knowledge of us." Prowl stated in a sage like tone.

Stephanie's mischievous grin grew wider as she turned her head in the direction of Prowl's voice. "Prove I know about em!"

Jazz snickered, because he knew _exactly_ what the girl in his hand meant. He could quickly tell from her words and tone that she fully intended to keep any secret that was revealed to her. He knew that Stephanie had placed an _incredible_ amount of trust in him mere moments after meeting him, and now, she was showing that she could be trusted just as much. That small bit of knowledge gave him a very warm feeling in his spark.

Prowl's doorwings rose stiffly as he regarded the young girl in the hands of his spark-mate. "Very well… since you wish some type of confirmation. What about the fact that you are currently sitting in the hand of a Cybertronian?"

"Prove it!" Stephanie declared defiantly. "Prove this isn't some kind of remote controlled thingy like those light pole workers use."

"Our speaking to you does nothing to prove our existence?" Prowl asked in disbelief.

"Oh _puh-leeze_!" Stephanie snorted derisively. "All somebody would have to do is put some kind of radio or walky-talky where the head is supposed to be. It's not nice to go around playing tricks on a blind person; you know?"

Prowl's doorwings actually _ached_ with their upright position on his back. He stared at Stephanie with his optics and mouth wide open. He looked up at Jazz to see what that mech's reaction was, and saw that his spark-mate was actually struggling not to _laugh_!

"Ya know Prowler…the Humans can actually pull off a stunt like that, but Steph is right, it ain't gonna work on anyone who ain't blind." Jazz began with a chuckle. "What she's sayin is dat she ain't gonna say anything ta _anyone_ about us! So what ever secret ya wanna tell her, she'll keep it." He added seriously.

Stephanie smiled up towards where she knew that Jazz's face was. "You catch on pretty quick." She said with a wide grin before turning back to Prowl. "I don't know all those big words Prowl, but I do know how to keep a secret. I kept _me_ a secret for several years. I'd still be doing that if I hadn't got sick after Jazz stopped on my cane."

Prowl's doorwings dropped in shock as the implications of Stephanie's statement began to register in his processors. In a single instant, everything she had told him about her situation flashed through his processors.

"Stephanie… I can assure you that the secret of our existence is _not_ that dire!" Prowl admonished softly.

"We are aware that sooner or later, other humans will learn of our existence. That has happened quite a few times in the past because of unfortunate circumstances. However, when that does happen, the humans involved are asked to keep our secret, and thus far none have declined to do so. You are _not_ to allow yourself to be injured simply to preserve our secret… is that understood?" Prowl explained in a patient tone.

"Prowl, the only person I know who isn't on this base, is Vern the Coffee Vendor. I don't plan on going anywhere, so I don't know anyone to tell who doesn't already know about you. I may not be good at much else, but at least I can keep a secret." Stephanie said seriously.

"Very well, here is _my_ secret Stephanie. Other bots think that I am devoid of emotions. There is a valid reason for this. My emotional processors are set up somewhat differently from other bots. Because of this, my emotions are stronger and uncontrollable. This causes me to burst out laughing, or break down crying for no _outwardly_ apparent reason. All it takes is a single wayward thought, and I would react to that thought or memory. That is why I keep my emotional processors shut down while I am on duty, or around others. The only time I allow those processors to be active is when I am alone in my quarters, or here with Jazz. Since you will now be sharing these quarters with us, you should know what you will be facing with any unexplained emotional outbursts from me." Prowl explained carefully.

"You can count on me Prowl. What happens in here… _stays_ in here! But one question… I told Jazz and Ratchet that I'd just have to try harder to get you to crack up at one of my jokes. Is that gonna be a problem?" Stephanie asked worriedly.

"That would actually be tha best way ta keep his secret Steph. With those processors shut down, ya ain't gonna be able ta crack him up, but it won't be for lack o' tryin. So tell all tha jokes ya want." Jazz said with a grin.

"Prowl, is he right about that? Will me cracking jokes really help keep your secret?" Stephanie asked in a doubtful and worried tone.

"Yes Stephanie, Jazz is correct in his assessment of the situation. While all of your apparent attempts to elicit a humorous response from me in public would fail, the fact that you continue such endeavors would be noticed by others. They would then continue to mistakenly believe as they do now." Prowl said reassuringly.

"Good! 'Cause I don't wanna give you away by messing up and saying something I'm not supposed to." Stephanie replied seriously.

At that point Prowl did something that he had only done in the presence of one other individual… he smiled.


	7. Chapter 7

Stephanie opened her eyes to the sound of metal rubbing against metal. At first she was confused as to what was going on, but then she heard Prowl's voice say Jazz's name. That combined with the soft grunts and moans told her _exactly_ what was going on! Her eyes shot wide at that realization, because she'd had no idea that they could even do what she was pretty sure they were doing. Like most kids, she'd seen her parents going at it once or twice, but she hadn't said anything to them. Instead, she had simply closed the bedroom door and went to do something else.

Now was a different story. She knew that Jazz and Prowl had their bed right above hers, so she couldn't really go somewhere else and pretend that she hadn't heard them. Suddenly she grinned, because she knew that they would both deny everything if confronted about it. She listened in silence while the sounds became more passionate and almost desperate. She knew from what Prowl had told her that Jazz had only been brought back to life a few days ago. That information went a long way towards explaining why they were doing… _whatever_ it was that they were doing. She knew that her parents had sometimes had sex, but she had no idea how robots could do that. Come to think of it, she wasn't really sure she wanted to know either. Finally after what seemed like a long while, the sounds, moans, and soft though impassioned cries of the other's name died down, and Stephanie could hear the sounds of their cooling fans working at high speeds.

"Jazz, we should endeavor to be _much_ quieter if we are going to spark merge while Stephanie is in the room with us. We do not want her to hear us." Prowl whispered.

"Oh… it's _way_ too late for that! I heard everything!" Stephanie laughed.

There were a few seconds of _complete_ silence before she spoke again. "Don't worry about it though; everybody needs a good back rub sometimes… right?"

"Ya got that right Steph! A good back rub is just what Ratchet woulda ordered, and Prowler gives da _best_ back rubs!" Jazz replied with a breathless sounding chuckle.

"Good! I'll keep that in mind if _I_ ever need a back rub!" Stephanie shot back with a snicker.

Jazz could only chuckle as he and Prowl slipped into recharge.

The next morning, both Jazz and Prowl were polishing the scuffs and scratches out of their armor when Stephanie woke up.

"Stephanie, you may return to sleep if you wish. Jazz and I normally emerge from recharge at this time, but most of the humans who are not currently on duty, will sleep for another hour." Prowl stated calmly as he continued to make minor repairs to his paint.

"Hate to break it to you Prowl, but there's no way I'd get back to sleep with someone moving around in here. When I was living in the sewers, I had to wake up at every little sound because it could be a rat that might bite me, or someone who would sell me, or turn me in. So there's no way I can go back to sleep now." Stephanie replied honestly as she sat up.

"That don't soun like it was a good way ta live Steph." Jazz said quietly.

"It wasn't… well most of the time anyway. There was a few times that I had some fun, but not many. Most of the time I went hungry, and when it snowed, I had to stay in the sewers where it always stayed pretty warm. I only went out for short times because I didn't have enough clothes to stay warm when it was cold. When it was really cold, I always tried to find Vern if I had enough money. Hot coffee always warmed me up, and… and I didn't have to listen to other kids make jokes about how they could get me hurt or killed. Maybe running away to live in the sewers wasn't the best thing to do, but it was all I could think of to get out of there." Stephanie replied candidly.

"Do not misunderstand me Stephanie; I am not at all pleased that you were forced by circumstances to endure such conditions. I do not wish for you to do so again, therefore I will, and with the assistance of Jazz, ensure that you are not subjected to that type of lifestyle again." Prowl stated firmly.

"You really mean that… don't you?" Stephanie asked as she turned her head in Prowl's direction.

"Yes Stephanie, I do. Even if you were not the victim of a Cybertronian crime, I would endeavor to find some method of assisting you to improve your standard of living. You are young enough that you should not have been subjected to those living conditions regardless of your state of health. Prior to this war, sparklings, our young, were cared for by everyone. That is a particular behavior that we would _enjoy_ bringing to your world, but currently, we are to remain a secret. It is not a situation that we find enjoyable; because there is actually quite a lot that we could assist your race with, and many problems that we could possibly even solve. I can not condone your previous existence, but Jazz and I can attempt to improve your future." Prowl said calmly.

Jazz was watching Stephanie with sadness in his optics. He now understood that there had been absolutely _no_ rebellion in Stephanie's mind when she'd run away from the foster home. It wasn't a case where she could then do as she pleased, she had run away because her health, and even her _life_ had depended on it! It hadn't been a day to day lifestyle where she could do what ever she wanted; it had been a minute to minute struggle to simply stay alive for a little while longer. It made the saboteur's spark burn with anger that someone so young could be subjected to such cruelty. He knew that there wasn't anything he could do about Stephanie's past, but he could _certainly_ do something about her future! He created a mental note to ask Sarah about anything else Stephanie might need or make use of, because what he had learned in the past two days made him _very_ glad that he'd lived up to the morals he'd already died defending!

* * *

><p>Sarah Lennox walked into the rec room to see Jazz and Prowl sitting at one of the tables. She'd had some coffee at home, but she preferred to eat breakfast with the mechs because they were <em>always<em> interesting company.

"Morning Jazz; Prowl! You two mind if I join you?" Sarah asked cheerily.

"I have no objections at all Mrs. Lennox. The companionship that you provide is always appreciated." Prowl answered as he leaned over and placed his hand on the floor.

"Thank you Prowl. I tend to get enough exercise around here trying to keep up with Ratchet." Sarah said as she sat down on the mech's hand to be lifted to the table.

"Good morning Stephanie. You look like you slept pretty good." Sarah exclaimed in a good mood as she spotted the girl.

"Morning Mrs. Lennox. That was the best I've slept in a long time. An actual pillow instead of a pile of rags, a real bed instead of _more_ rags, clean sheets and blankets… _plus_ I didn't have to smell the sewers either. So I slept great!" Stephanie answered brightly while smiling.

"Glad to hear it… and like I told you in Wal-Mart… call me Sarah. I don't want to hear any more of this '_Mrs. Lennox_' stuff out of you, because we're _friends_, and friends call each other by name, understand?" She finished in a firm though gentle tone and a smile on her face and a sparkle in her eyes.

Stephanie's sightless eyes widened as she faced in the direction the woman's voice was coming from. "But… but… you're a _grown up_!" She protested.

"So? Compared to the bots, I'm still an infant! Hanging around bots for a while tends to give you a whole new perspective on age differences Stephanie. Even if someone was two hundred years old, they would _still_ be considered a child by Cybertronian standards. So if _they_ can call me by name instead of 'kiddo', 'kid', 'child' or 'sparkling', when I'm not even old enough to be left alone by their standards, then so can you." Sarah stated amiably.

"O…okay…. _Sarah_." Stephanie answered hesitantly. "Oh _man_ that feels weird!" She added under her breath.

"What is it that feels '_weird_' Stephanie?" Prowl asked.

"Calling a grown up by their name instead of saying Mr. or Miss."

"Well get used to it Stephanie, because I'm not about to let you start calling me 'Mrs. Lennox' all the time. That makes me feel like a grandma before my daughter is even old enough to drive." Sarah stated ruefully.

"Okay. If you say so." Stephanie agreed.

"Mrs. Lennox… we placed our order just before you entered, so if you wish, your sustenance can be added to our own so that all of it will arrive simultaneously." Prowl said while looking at the human woman.

"That actually sounds pretty good Prowl. I've had a couple cups of coffee, but I don't think I'm fully awake yet." Sarah answered.

"How come you don't make Prowl call you by name?" Stephanie asked a bit worried.

"Stephanie… I've insisted on that until I'm tired of even bringing it up." Sarah said disgustedly.

"Prowler's stubborn like that Steph. Just be glad he ain't callin ya by your _whole_ name." Jazz added with a smirk.

"Oh…" Stephanie muttered softly.

Stephanie waited while Sarah placed her order, before speaking to the woman. "So what other mechs or bots are here?"

"Well, there's Wheeljack who you've heard about, because he's making you a new cane. There's Ironhide who works with my husband Will, and he's Will's Guardian as well. Chromia is Ironhide's Spark Mate, and that one's a femme… meaning she's a female Autobot…"

"Wait! There's _girl_ _Autobots_?" Stephanie interrupted with her sightless eyes as wide as they could be.

Sarah just had to laugh at the excited surprise in the girl's voice, but before she could answer Stephanie continued.

"What's she like? When can I meet her? Is she nice? Don't tell me she's a grump like Ratchet… he's a humbug! _Will_ I get to meet her? Is she fun to be around?" Stephanie demanded without pause between the questions, and only stopping because she ran out of breath to speak.

"Yes, I'm sure that you'll get to meet her. She's very nice, although she's a bit gung-ho about her cannons. If you _really_ want to get on her good side, say that you like them. Now she's not as grouchy as Ratchet, but then, I haven't met a bot who _is_. Now besides her, there are also, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe who happen to be twins by the way, Elita One… she's the Spark Mate of Optimus Prime who leads all of the Autobots. Both of them are kind of like parents to _everyone_! It doesn't matter what kind of problem it is, they still try to help with it. Mirage is a little too aristocratic and stuck up if you ask me. Bumblebee is nice. He's serious when he has to be, but a lot of the time he acts like a teenager, and sometimes even a kid. Arcee is also here. I know you'll like her, because just about everyone does. She's calm and friendly most of the time. Pretty well laid back actually. Until you get her in combat, then she's all business. " Sarah said with a smile.

Stephanie leaned her back against the chair and smiled a bit, while Sarah added what she wanted to the order for their table. She knew from personal experience that Jazz and Prowl were nice, so she was sure that some of their friends would be nice as well. Finding out that there were _girl_ Autobots had been surprising, because she'd had no idea that they would even exist. The fact that there were two of them on base where she could meet them was exciting to her.

It wasn't long before their order arrived, and Sarah noted that Stephanie had scrambled eggs, toast, hashed browns along with a glass of milk, and the cup of coffee that she seemed to enjoy so much.

"Stephanie… I need to ask you for a favor." Sarah said after the girl had finished everything except the coffee.

"What kind of favor?" Stephanie asked suspiciously.

"Nothing really hard. I just need someone to supervise Annabelle for a couple of hours while Will and I go to Church." Sarah replied.

"Oh… that doesn't sound hard. I can do that." Stephanie answered with a smile.

"Good! It'll only be for a few hours. We'll be home for lunch, and I'll pay you thirty dollars for taking care of her for me." Sarah said brightly.

Stephanie's mouth fell open and her sightless grey eyes shot wide in astonishment. It took her a moment before she was able to respond.

"I… I wouldn't even know what to do with thirty dollars." Stephanie finally protested.

"Well, maybe not right now, but I'm sure you'll think of something to spend it on eventually." Sarah said smiling. "So… will you do it?"

"Sure." Stephanie said with a nod.

"Thank you. Mikaela's busy today, or I would have asked her. I'll have some sandwiches in the fridge for you, in case either of you get hungry, but Will and I'll be back in time for lunch." Sarah said as she got up. "Jazz knows where our home is here on the base, so if you can be there in about an hour, maybe an hour and a half, I would really appreciate it."

"I'll be there." Stephanie answered quickly.

* * *

><p>Stephanie got out of Jazz's alt mode, and got her bamboo cane before placing it in her left hand. She made her way up to the door, which was opened before she could even knock.<p>

"Hi. Stephanie right? I'm William Lennox; we met yesterday." Will said as he answered the door.

As Will looked down at the girl, he saw that she was wearing a navy blue long sleeved shirt of similar material as a T-shirt, blue jeans, a pair of black dress boots with a low heel. Her medium brown hair that reached down to her waist had light curls and waves in it. Her left hand held a six foot length of polished bamboo that was clearly being used to navigate her surroundings. All in all, she looked like an average girl except for one thing… her eyes. The sight of her grey eyes staring straight ahead and not focusing on anything at all was more than a little disconcerting.

"Who's at the door Will?" Sarah asked as she approached while attaching her earrings. "Oh! Hey Stephanie, come on in! I'm glad you could make it." She added after seeing who it was.

"Hi Mr. Lennox. Hey Sarah, I told you I'd be here, so here I am." Stephanie answered a little nervously.

"_Stephy_!"

The excited peal tore through the house, and Will turned in time to see his five year old daughter running to the door with an elated smile on her face. "Annabelle, no running in the house!" He reprimanded quickly.

Annabelle slowed to a fast walk, but that bright smile never left her face. "Stephy… why you here? Mommy says you is still sick, and that you can't play with me right now."

"Well I can't really play much, but there's got to be other things we can do. We have the whole morning to find out. So what do you want to try first?" Stephanie said with a smile.

"Can we play dolls?" Annabelle asked hopefully.

"I can try." Stephanie replied.

Stephanie had to swallow hard and struggle to keep a smile on her face. Annabelle's voice sounded so _much_ like her dead little sister that it was like hearing a ghost. She stepped into the house with her bamboo cane leading the way, and stopped when she heard Sarah speak to her again.

"I'm _really_ glad you agreed to this Stephanie. Annabelle just doesn't do well sitting for several hours in church, and Mikaela is busy today, so there was no one else I could call at such short notice. There's a few sandwiches and some juice pouches in the fridge in case you want a snack, but we'll be back by lunch time. Now, can you call nine-one-one if there's an emergency?" Sarah finished seriously.

"I… I don't know. But I can dial the operator which is the middle button on the bottom. That's easy enough, and they have caller ID so they can find the address with no problem." Stephanie answered quickly.

"That's just as good. Operators can patch in to the nine-one-one dispatch easily, so fire, ambulance, or police are right there. Good thinking." Will said with a nod of approval.

Sarah picked up the handset and looked at it curiously to see if the girl was right. Her eyebrows rose in silent surprise when she saw that Stephanie was telling the truth.

"In that case here's the phone. Don't try to answer it if it rings, just let the answering machine get it. We'll see you two later." Sarah said as she passed over the phone before she and her husband left.


	8. Chapter 8

Sarah entered the house to relative silence. Since that wasn't actually normal, concern raced through her mind, while she imagined all sorts of serious problems. She moved in to the house quickly, but came to a sudden halt when she spotted both girls sitting quietly at the dining room table apparently coloring. Even though both girls had their backs to her, she could still see the box of crayons laying on the table next to Annabelle. She closed her eyes and let out a long breath of relief upon seeing that there was nothing wrong.

"Mommy! Me an Stephy is coloring _lots_ of pwetty pictures!" Annabelle squealed excitedly when she turned around after hearing her.

"Really? Mind if I take a look?" Will asked as he walked over to the table.

Both Sarah and her husband walked over to the table and saw what was going on. Annabelle wasn't actually inside the lines of the picture, and only one of the colors were even _close_ to being correct but still, it was clear that Annabelle was enjoying herself immensely.

Then Sarah looked over at Stephanie and saw that she was _also_ coloring! There were several patches of various colors strewn about the page, but they were small patches. She couldn't help but wonder at that one, because she knew that Stephanie was blind, so the question was… why would she even agree to something like this?

"Stephanie… what are you doing?" Sarah asked in disbelief being unable to restrain her curiosity any longer.

"Coloring. Belle says it's a picture of a frog on a lily pad in the middle of the water. So that's what I'm doing." Stephanie answered with a shrug.

"Now you gots to color the flower." Annabelle instructed happily.

"Okay, what color?" Stephanie replied quickly as she held out her hand.

Sarah watched as her daughter handed the girl a new crayon, and then moved her hand to where the flower was. She watched in disbelief as the girl started coloring a small patch of about one square inch. A glance at the table showed her that this wasn't the first picture done that way. More than a dozen pictures were scattered around on the table. Most had obviously been completed by Annabelle, but several were signed with Stephanie's name.

"So what do you think? Mrs… _Sarah_?" Stephanie corrected herself quickly. "Should I have put my name on any of them?"

Sarah heard Will choke back a laugh, and glared over at him while he struggled to contain his laughter. She was about to make a tactful answer of her own when she was beaten to it.

"That good huh?" Stephanie said with a laugh of her own. "I have no idea what they look like, but at least I _tried_." She added good naturedly.

"They _pwetty_ Stephy!" Annabelle promptly protested hotly.

"Well since I can't see it, I'll have to take your word for it Belle. That's why I signed every one of them!" Stephanie said with a smile as she turned her head in Annabelle's direction.

* * *

><p>When Sarah tried to give her the money at the door Stephanie just had to refuse. "Nah! You keep it. I don't really know what to do with it. Besides, today was the best time I've had in years. We didn't eat the sandwiches, because she said she wasn't hungry every time I asked her, but we did drink the juice pouches."<p>

"Stephanie… are you _sure_? You don't have a whole lot to your name right now, and you kept watch over Annabelle for four hours, and I want you to know that I appreciate that. So are you really sure that you won't let me pay you for your help?" Sarah said reasonably.

"I'm sure. You took me to Wal-Mart and bought me a bunch of clothes and stuff. You didn't have to do that, but you did… so I can at least watch over Annabelle to say thanks." Stephanie argued nicely.

"First of all Stephanie… that was _Prowl's_ money that I spent at the store, not mine. So all I really did was take you there and help you pick out some of the stuff you needed." Sarah began.

"Still, you didn't have to. Besides, Belle's fun. She reminds me a lot of my little sister." Stephanie interrupted. "Even her voice is the same." She added almost under her breath.

"Well… if you're _sure_. But _next_ time, you're getting paid; understand?" Sarah returned firmly.

"Okay." Stephanie agreed reluctantly. "Is Jazz or Prowl here, so I can go back to their home now?"

"Jazz is away from the base for a while, but Prowl can come pick you up shortly if you want to wait for him. I can take you to meet with him, or to their quarters, if you like." Chromia said as she studied the girl who had been supervising Annabelle.

"And who are you?" The girl demanded in a _very_ suspicious tone as she turned around.

"My designation or name… is Chromia. I am…"

"You're one of the Autobots like Jazz and Prowl! Mrs. Lennox told me about you while she was having breakfast with me, Jazz, and Prowl this morning. She said you aren't a grump like Humbug! My name's Stephanie, but you can call me Steph if you want." Stephanie exclaimed brightly as she interrupted the bot in her excitement.

"I am not familiar with anyone named 'Humbug'. May I ask who or what that is?" Chromia asked cautiously.

"That's what I'm calling Ratchet. He wants to be grumpy and act like a Humbug, I'm gonna call him Humbug, and I already told him that too!" Stephanie exclaimed.

Chromia couldn't help but laugh. She knew that Stephanie didn't know any of the bots all that well, but the fact that she was now going to call Ratchet by a descriptive title rather than his actual designation was somewhat funny. Then, once she had looked the term up on the human's internet, she was laughing even harder.

"I think I will leave _that_ one between you and Ratchet. I have already _seen_ how irate he can get when he's addressed by something other than his name, so I strongly advise against doing that again." Chromia said still chuckling.

"Well, I told him that I was gonna call him that, and I _did_ call him that too!" Stephanie declared firmly.

Chromia was surprised by that declaration. Most of those who chose to insult the Medic by calling him something other than his name, weren't willing to brag about it afterwards because of the rather formidable retaliation from said Medic. In fact, most only did so in a fit of anger, because the Medic usually responded with a wrench.

"Well Stephanie, let me tell you that Ratchet is very irritable and easily angered, and calling him something other than his name will _really_ make him angry." Chromia warned.

"Maybe… but he shouldn't have ticked me off like he did. So he started it." Stephanie proclaimed sourly.

William Lennox had watched in silence as the girl encountered Chromia for the first time. He saw when Stephanie was first offered the ride, which was somewhat rare for Chromia. Because while she wasn't as arrogant as Mirage, or as vain and prejudiced as Sunstreaker, she was simply… _picky_ about the people she chose to allow in her alt mode. But as soon as the offer had been made, Stephanie had gone from smiling to _highly_ suspicious, and more than a bit hostile. Suddenly the girl's entire attitude had changed upon learning who she was speaking to.

It seemed to Will, that Chromia rather liked the girl, which was another mark in her favor as far as he was concerned. He considered his wife to be an excellent judge of character, and she liked the girl, so that was a big mark right there. Then, there was the way that Annabelle also liked the girl. He knew that his daughter was only five years old, but Annabelle was already able to determine who she could trust and who she couldn't. The bots were an excellent example of that. Even though she had the most contact with Hide, Chromia, and Ratchet, she sometimes interacted with Optimus, Elita, Arcee, Bee, and even Prowl. She laughed at Ratchet's grouchiness, because she thought he was funny in the way that he was always grumpy, but she trusted each of them without any questions. She had never once interacted with Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, or Mirage because she wanted nothing to do with them.

Will thought that it was strange, because while Annabelle had basically grown up with the bots, there were some that she wanted nothing to do with. Then there was the way that she seemed to have latched on to this Stephanie. He knew that he didn't know much about her, and that alone bothered him. He'd have to find out if Sarah knew anything.

"Hey Stephy! You come back amowwow?" Annabelle called out loudly from the doorway.

Will turned to look at his daughter and saw the hopeful expression on her face. He could easily see that she was excited by the prospect.

"I'd like that Belle, but you'll have to ask your mom and dad, so they can talk to Prowl about it." Stephanie called out as she got in the sapphire blue Cadillac Escalade.

Will watched as Chromia drove off with Stephanie in the passenger seat talking animatedly and smiling brightly. Later that night, as they were getting ready for bed, he asked his wife about her.

"Her story isn't at all a pleasant one Will. What information I have is from both Stephanie herself, and what she's told Prowl. What she remembers is that one minuet; she's at home celebrating her birthday, and leaning over to blow out the candles… the next, she's waking up in the hospital severely injured, blind, and being told that her mother, father, and little sister are dead with no explanation of why. Prowl says that Stephanie's burns are the result of a plasma shot hitting something else and her getting caught in the splash damage. She was rendered permanently blind by the near miss searing her retinas. Other kids stole what little she had while at a foster home, and made some very cruel jokes about how she could be hurt or killed by sliding something at her feet while she was preparing to go down some stairs. That's why she ran away from there and has been living in the sewers ever since." Sarah told him candidly.

"Okay… so how does Prowl know that it was a plasma shot that did a number on her?" Will asked skeptically.

"Prowl knows that's the case because Stephanie's scarring contains a residual energy pattern that human technology can't detect or duplicate. He can't tell if it was caused by fire from a Bot or Con, because it's too old, but he _did_ say that if it was a Bot, there were only two present who had a cannon with enough power to do that. Those two are Optimus and Ironhide." Sarah answered in a sad tone.

Sarah really didn't like the facts that Prowl had pointed out to her, because she happened to be very fond of both of the bots in question. The problem was; Prowl wasn't going to rule out _any_ possibilities. That meant both Optimus and Ironhide were suspected culprits until they were cleared by the memory logs.

"What about the Cons? Did any of them have the firepower to do that kind of damage?" Will asked getting interested in spite of the subject matter.

"According to Prowl… all of them except Barricade." Sarah answered heavily.

"There were four of 'em that made it downtown. That's a lot of suspects." Will said softly as he sighed in frustration.

"I know, Will. I know. But Prowl isn't going to just let this one go. He said straight out that whoever is guilty needs to make restitution to Stephanie, because that is the way their laws work." Sarah said quietly.

* * *

><p>Since neither Jazz nor Prowl were anywhere close at hand, Chromia took Stephanie to the Rec Room. She had to admit that she rather liked talking with Stephanie who was curious about her, and asked all <em>sorts<em> of questions… including more than a few that were highly personal in nature. She wasn't _about_ to explain that yes… Cybertronians could reproduce and have babies or sparklings, nor was she going to explain any details about it.

"If you are unable to see, then how do you intend to go over the menu?" Chromia asked interestedly.

"Well, Prowl gave me the categories yesterday, and let me pick what kind of food I wanted from that, but since I know what I want this will be easy." Stephanie replied quickly.

"Okay then. You tell me what you want, and I'll place the order." Chromia said with a smile.

"I want a tuna sandwich, and a small bowl of beef vegetable soup with lots and _lots_ of crackers. A bucket of milk and a cup of coffee to drink." Stephanie answered brightly with a big smile.

Chromia had to reset her processors when she heard the order, but she relayed it exactly as it had been phrased, she also added a cube of heated energon for herself since she wasn't going to be rude by not consuming something.

It wasn't even five minuets before the KP soldier was bringing their order to them.

Chromia saw the soldier look at her, and then at Stephanie before looking around to see the rest of the room empty.

"Okay, I brought a thirty-two ounce glass of milk, but if you _really_ meant a bucket, I can go find one and bring it." He said doubtfully.

"That's fine! I can always get another one right?" Stephanie asked quickly.

"U… ye… su… sure." The soldier stammered as he shook his head before setting the order down and leaving.

The first thing Stephanie did was feel out the location of the large glass of milk, before sliding it closer to her. She leaned forward, tipped the glass towards her, and started gulping down the ice cold milk as fast as she could without getting a headache. After a total of ten swallows, she set the glass back down and let out a _very_ contented sigh.

"Now _that_… is good!" Stephanie said while licking the white mustache off her upper lip.

Chromia couldn't help but laugh. The way the human girl had looked, it was like a very small sparkling diving into a _very_ large cube of energon. The issue on the other servo, was that the girl looked as if she were _thoroughly_ pleased with her order.

"Well at least I can make you laugh. Getting Prowl to laugh hasn't worked out so far." Stephanie said glumly.

Chromia spluttered and nearly choked on the energon that she'd started to sip. "You're trying to get _Prowl_ to laugh? Be sure and let me know if you ever make it happen!"

"Okay, but I have to tell you… so far, he's a real stick in the mud! I haven't gotten him to laugh at _any_ of my jokes yet. And I thought I did some good ones too!" Stephanie said with a frown as she started crumbling her crackers into her soup.

Chromia observed this with interest, because although she'd been on Earth for over a year, she had not seen anyone do something like this before. "What are you doing? I thought you wanted to eat those?"

"I'm _going_ to eat this too! Haven't you ever seen someone crush their crackers in their soup before?" Stephanie asked without pausing in her actions.

"No, I can't say that I have. Is that a common practice?" Chromia asked.

"Sure!" Stephanie answered quickly before frowning in thought. "At least… I think it is. I've never heard of anyone who _didn't_ crush their crackers in their soup. I do that same thing with chili too, but then I also like _lots_ of shredded cheese and some onions in it too. Fritos are _great_ in chili! Add a ton of Fritos, a bunch of cheese, and some onions and you have Frito Pie! And that is some _good_ stuff!" She added brightly while smiling.

"If that's the case, then why aren't you eating that now?" Asked a new voice.

Stephanie recognized that voice instantly. "_Humbug_! I didn't hear you come in. When'd you get here?"

"I just entered, but I did hear you tell Chromia about the chili and the Frito Pie, so why aren't you eating one of those items instead? Because it certainly sounds as if you enjoy them." Ratchet answered.

"I _do_ enjoy those! But I think chili will be a little too rich and spicy for me right now. I have to get used to eating again first." Stephanie answered quickly.

Chromia stared at the human girl in surprise. As far as she understood things, humans could not survive for too long without proper sustenance… so why had the girl not been eating?

"You make a very good argument for not eating such things yet. I also notice that you have a smaller portion than you did yesterday… is there a reason for that?" Ratchet observed.

"Yeah! It's not like I can go jogging or something so I'm cutting back some, so I don't get wider than I am tall. There's no _way_ I'm gonna let myself get fat!" Stephanie replied quickly.

"I take it that you have never been on a treadmill then?" Ratchet asked.

"I've seen those, but I've never been on one." Stephanie said before she really thought about it. "Do you really think I could use one? Where would I even find one of those?"

"There are several here on the base. It can be arranged for you to visit the exercise room and gymnasium… there is also a swimming pool and a hot tub if you are interested." Ratchet allowed with his optics narrowed at the girl. Ratchet wasn't an idiot by any stretch of the imagination, and it seemed that Stephanie, actually _did_ care about her health, and did what she was able to do as far as maintaining her current level of health such as it was. Not only was she blind, but with almost no use of her left arm, and restricted mobility in her torso, she had to be careful in what exercises she did.

"Well, it's not like I can go swimming, since I can't use my left arm to swim with, but the hot tub sounds great! What other kinds of exercise stuff do you think I could use?" Stephanie asked with a smile before taking a bite of her soup.

Chromia remained silent while the two were discussing health issues. She had known Ratchet far too long not to know what he was like when interrupted in such matters. That was not something she planned on doing. What did concern her though were the few comments she had picked up on. Why did Stephanie need to become accustomed to eating again? Why was her left arm unusable? Curiosity prompted her to scan the girl, and when she did her mouth dropped open in shock. At some point in the past, she had been hit by a blast from a plasma cannon. Given the rather limited area of damage, it could only have been the splash damage, but still. She could see from her scan that Stephanie was severely underweight, and somewhat malnourished, and it was obvious that this is what was being discussed by the CMO.

"I would suggest and exercise bike and a stair climbing machine in addition to the treadmill. Granted, those will only build your legs and endurance, but your mobility poses some problems in that area." Ratchet said with a grin. He just could _not_ believe that someone was actually _asking_ him for advice on their medical condition, and that was something that truly warmed his spark.

"Is that stuff in the exercise room too?" Stephanie asked before stuffing her mouth with more of the soup that was actually rather chunky because of all the crackers in it.

"Yes it is, and I will make certain that Jazz or Prowl take you to the exercise room at least twice each week." Ratchet replied quickly.

Stephanie frowned at that, and she shot a really _nasty_ glare in the direction that Humbug's voice was coming from before taking another gulp of her milk. Once she swallowed she again turned her head towards Humbug. "Keep dreaming Humbug! I'm going everyday if I have to find out how to get there by walking. It's one thing to get fat because you _can't_ do anything, but I can still do stuff, and I _will_!"

Ratchet recoiled as if he'd been struck. Now he thought that he understood why Stephanie was always so angry at him. With her body in the condition that it was, she _had_ to take as much care as she possibly could with her health. It was bad enough that she was severely limited in what types of physical activity she could do, but add in the environment that she'd been living in, and it was enough to make his processors short out.

"If you plan to exercise everyday, then you need to limit yourself to no more than half an hour. Use the stair climber first, then the treadmill, and the bike last… understand?" ratchet stipulated firmly.

"Now _there's_ a gripe that makes sense Humbug! If you're gonna do nothing but gripe me out all the time, you need to at least make sure it's a gripe you can use!" Stephanie replied with a smirk.

Chromia could no longer help it, she burst out laughing hard and loud! Part of what made the situation so funny was that Stephanie had yet to call Ratchet by his proper name. The other part was that this little human was giving even _better_ than she was getting! Ratchet was being beaten at his own game.


End file.
